


Elban Holidays (Richard & Nives vol. 5)

by Lady_Angel_Fanwriter



Series: A Fangirl's Dream [5]
Category: British Actor RPF, Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: Elba, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Fun, Holidays, Isle of Elba, Love, Relax - Freeform, Romanticism, Sea, Summer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 86,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27915496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter/pseuds/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter
Summary: Richard and Nives spend their first summer holiday together, two full weeks in the charming Isle of Elba in Italy, hosted by Nives' friends Raffaella and Jerry in their beautiful wine estate.(expect lots of fluffiness, but with a touch of hot chili  😁)
Relationships: Richard Armitage/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A Fangirl's Dream [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/571402
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter I: Thursday, April 9th & Friday, August 7th

**Chapter I: Thursday, April 9 th, 2015**

Nives dialled her Roman friend Raffaella’s number. She had met her the first time she had gone to Elba and the island had won her heart. The two women had immediately become friends, as they both had in common a passion for several subject, namely writing, history, Tolkien and Star Trek, and even for good food and wine – the latter being Raffaella’s forte. Oenology had indeed always fascinated her and, though she profitably studied architecture at the La Sapienza University of Rome, she had taken many courses about this topic, spending her summer holidays visiting wine producer’s estates. After graduating from university, she had begun working for a group practice of architecture in the capital but, coming to the Elba Island one summer of twelve years before, she had fallen in love with an estate near Capoliveri, which used to be famous for producing an excellent Ansonica white wine, but which now lay abandoned, because the heirs of the owners – who had died a couple of years earlier – weren’t interested in it and had put it on sale. With a header she had never regretted, Raffaella had quitted her job in Rome and, investing her entire savings and partly those of her parents – both successful professionals and rather wealthy – she had purchased the estate. Putting to good use every knowledge and notion she had accumulated over the years, she got the Ansonica vineyards back in shape with the help of skilled local workers, and she had started to produce wine both of the dry and of the sweet variety. Success had been immediate and had allowed her, just three years later, to develop the property by purchasing a new plot of land, where she had planted the most typical Elban vine, the Aleatico, which produced the famous dessert wine, but also an excellent sparkling brut rosé. After that, she had added Vermentino vines, too.

Nives had met Raffaella during one of the gourmet evenings she organised in her estate, Altariva, where common acquaintances had invited her. They had become friends at once, with the immediacy that only kindred spirits experience, and they had spent much time together, as Raffaella now dealt almost only with her estate’s public relations, because she had entrusted the management, the entire manual labour and most of the accounting work to trustworthy staff. When Nives had come back to Elba the following year, Raffaella had invited her to be her guest, as she possessed a very large house. It was a 19th century villa that she had entirely renovated, with four bedrooms, as many bathrooms, an extensive living room opening on a huge terrace overlooking the sea – where she held monthly her gourmet evenings – a large sitting room, a library, a kitchen fit for a restaurant, several service rooms, a garage for four cars, and last but not least, a spectacular pool with attached Jacuzzi, surrounded by a magnificent garden full of flowers and trees, the latter nearly all holm-oaks and maritime pines. Since then, each time Nives had gone to the Elba Island – and it had happened lots of times – she had stayed at her friend’s.

Raffaella answered the phone at the third ring.

“Hi, Nives!” she greeted her enthusiastically. “How was the stay at your _parents-in-law’s_?”

Amongst all of Nives’ acquaintances, Raffaella was the one who could better understand her difficulties to handle the fame she was experiencing vicariously since she had met Richard Armitage, because she had lived through something rather similar when she had met the famous world multi-champion archer Jerry Runner, on holiday there on the island. They had fallen for each other hard and fast, even more than Nives and Richard, and within six months they were married. Jerry’s sport career had been cut short just a few months before his encounter with Raffaella, because of an accident that had injured the tendons of his left arms, compromising his agonistic ability, and she had been a lifeline for him, saving him from the terrible depression he had fallen into. Born and grown up among the Napa Valley vineyards, viticulture and winemaking had been his side business since forever and therefore, it was completely natural for him to come and live in Elba, working along with his wife and investing in her estate both on a personal and on a financial level.

“Very well”, Nives smiled, recalling the nice moments she had shared with the Armitage family. “They gave me a warm welcome, making me feel accepted and well-liked. Margaret, Susan and I had even fun at Richard’s expense, can you imagine?”

Raffaella laughed. “That’s typical, when there’s team spirit! I’m so happy for you! As you know, I wasn’t as lucky as you’ve been…”

“Well, that arrogant and philandering father-in-law you have isn’t a fine example of human being, but at least, you get along well with your mother-in-law and brothers- and sisters-in-law… How many are they? I never remember…”

“Four. Two males and two females. Sometimes I still muddle up their names!” Raffaella laughed. “I call Kimberly with Nicole’s name, and Clark with Kayne’s, not to mention their spouses…”

“Too many relatives!” Nives joined her friend’s laughter. “And we, as only-children, are not used to!”

“Yeah, you’re right”, Raffaella confirmed, amused. “Changing the subject: I inform you that Jerry has actually doubled his _training ground_ …”

That was how the American ex-champion called the corner in the garden he used for his archery. He couldn’t do it on an agonistic level anymore, but it still remained his passion and Raffaella had encouraged him to create a place where he could keep practicing.

“Really? And how did he manage it? Taking down half of the hill?” Nives was amazed.

Again, Raffaella laughed. “No, he expanded it on the other side, partly using the terrace on the sea.”

“But isn’t it too windy there for the arrows?”

“Yeah, that’s why he placed a privet hedge in pots all around. It prevents one to see the panorama, but after all, if he’s focussed on shooting, he’s not much interested in the outlook.” 

“Fair enough.”

“Listen, you know that Jerry is a big fan of Richard’s since _Robin Hood_ ”, Raffaella went on, obviously referring to the BBC series where the British actor had played Guy of Gisborne. “Is there any chance that you two would consider the possibility to come here on vacation, sooner or later? Jerry would turn triple jack-knife twists!”

Nives cracked up, laughing so hard, she almost doubled over.

“Hey, what’s there to laugh?” Raffaella asked in pure Roman dialect, surprised by her friend’s reaction.

“Now that’s crazy!” Nives replied in as much pure Vicenza dialect. “I called you precisely for this reason.”

“Oh come on, I can’t believe it… You want to take Richard to Elba?”

“Precisely. We’re planning to spend our summer holidays together, but he’s not fond of sea, and besides, he is a very private person. We could rent a house somewhere near you…”

“Don’t even think about it! You’re going both to stay with us: we have plenty of space, you know that. There’s no need for you to go anywhere else.”

“Thanks darling, but I’d hate to be of any inconvenience to you…”

“Come on! When I tell Jerry, he’s going to turn somersaults!”

“Or triple jack-knife twists!” Nives reminded her laughing. “But seriously, Raffi… Are you sure we’re not going to be trouble to you? Truly?”

“Of course I’m sure! And anyway, that’s all ads playing for the Altariva Estate, when I’ll brag about Richard Armitage having been here with his fiancée. Obviously, only after you’re gone, and without telling you were my guests but just passed by. And only if both of you give me permission to do it…”

“That’s fine for me, and I think Richard too will agree, but of course, I need to ask him.”

“That’s clear. So, which date are you considering?”

“I’m working till Friday 7th of August. Richard will arrive that same day in the evening, then on Saturday I’ll take him to meet my father…”

She paused hearing Raffaella’s whistle. “Things are getting serious between you two: he introducing you to his family, you introducing him to your father… When are you going to marry??”

Nives’ heart skipped one beat.

“We didn’t talk about marriage yet”, she said in a dull voice. Raffaella bit her tongue: she knew perfectly how bad her friend had felt about the end of her marriage, which had a brutally sudden epilogue that had deeply wounded Nives’ soul. Since then, she proclaimed she had no intention to remarry. But Raffaella had always been certain that Nives would change her mind, should she meet the right person; and Raffaella hoped with all her heart that Richard Armitage might be that very person.

Otherwise, she would tell Jerry to use his arrows and transform him into a pincushion…

“Well, let’s not think too much about tomorrow”, Raffaella backed down. “Let’s enjoy today!”

“Precisely, just as my yoga teacher used to say: _live here and now_ ”, Nives nodded. “Anyway, back to our holiday plans, I was thinking about leaving on Sunday morning and therefore arrive sometime in the afternoon.”

“Excellent! I can’t wait to tell Jerry…”

**Friday, August 7 th, 2015**

It was early afternoon. Nives was trying desperately to focus on her job, constantly distracted by the thought that, in a few hours, she would see Richard again. The actor had taken a plane from London – he had spent one week at home, after finishing filming _Brain on Fire_ – and was due to arrive in Venice in the evening, then from there he would take a cab. The following day, Richard would meet Luigi, Nives’ dad; he had expressed the wish to meet some of her best friends too, so she had agreed with her father about lunch on Saturday with him, while on Sunday Richard and she would be guests for lunch at Francesca and Livio’s, her goddaughter Marina’s parents, where they would meet also Fulvia with her husband Max and their sons Michele, who was Nives’ godson, and Silvano, his elder brother. This way, Richard would meet all of her closest friends. 

For this reason, Nives had moved their departure time from the morning to mid-afternoon, booking the last ferry, at 22.20. Raffaella had assured her that it was of no inconvenience to her or Jerry.

Nives sighed, frustrated: concentrating was really hard, with the thought of Richard constantly slipping into her mind… she imagined his arms around her… his kisses… his caresses… After Easter, they had met again in Brussels, between the end of May and June, a long week-end for Nives who had taken advantage of the Italian Republic Day that this year fell on a Thursday, with Richard who had taken a break from the filming of _Pilgrimage_. For script requirements, he had grown back a beard; in the scene photo he had had shot especially for her, he was simply _magnificent_ in Raymond de Merville’s costume, a handsome as much as ruthless Norman knight. Those three days had been _intense_ , but now over two months had passed and Nives missed Richard in a painful way.

With a big effort, she turned away from those thoughts and took stock of the situation. She had completed almost everything: July invoices had been issued, checked and sent; the resulting active bank payments issued and sent via home banking; the passive bank payments accepted and paid; the last shipments done. There were only the bank transfers to the suppliers left. As she was going to prepare them, a peep alerted her about the arrival of an e-mail; annoyed, she wondered who on Earth could pester someone during the last hours of the last working day before the long-awaited holidays and checked it. The sender was Telecom, the firm’s telephone provider, therefore she opened it and found it was an invoice. She clicked on the link to download it… and too late she realised the shown tax code was wrong. A moment later, the writing _Cryptolocker has locked all your files, to unlock them follow instructions_ appeared on the screen. She swore aloud: she had been warned about it weeks before, and this was the fourth time someone tried to fool her. She had managed so far to realise in time that it was a fraud, but this time she had been too distracted and had messed it up. She immediately called Gianni, the computer guy, but after two rings the communication broke. She tried again, but got no answer. She waited about ten minutes, feeling a total nervous wreck: she had to solve this problem before finishing, she couldn’t stop after hours, not with Richard planning to arrive at her home around 19.00. And she wanted even less to return to the office the following day.

She called again, but the guy didn’t answer still. Feeling she was on the brink of a nervous breakdown, Nives tried to calm down practicing yoga breathing. Then she searched the warehouse and found an old magazine; she began listlessly leafing through it, just to pass the time. After half an hour she called again and this time Gianni answered.

“Hey, I saw your calls”, he said in a rather annoyed tone. “Look, if I’m not answering it’s because I cannot do it and I would call you back as soon as possible.”

Nives bit her tongue as not to reply rudely _I cannot know if you don’t answer because you’re busy, or because you have trouble with the connection or your cellphone is dead! You could’ve answered just telling me you couldn’t help me at once and would call back!_ But she didn’t want to waste any time arguing and therefore she said nothing of sorts, but she would tell Marisa, her boss, to see whether they should look for another computer guy.

“Sorry, it’s just that I panicked: I caught the _Cryptolocker_ ”, she said.

Gianni whistled. “Gosh, now that’s trouble… Log in to remote assistance and I’ll see to it. But how could you just fall for that?”

“A moment of distraction”, Nives answered sincerely. “I already blocked it three times, but this time it fooled me.”

“It happens… Now I’m going to fix it, but next time, be more careful.”

His tone was paternalistic, something Nives found insufferable. Again, she bit her tongue as not to fire back, still for the same reason as before, that is, not waste any time arguing, and therefore she just answered laconically. “You can bet on it…”

Gianni needed almost one hour to fix the problem and unlock the computer, so Nives could finally go on with the bank transfers and shut down. Eventually, she was just ten minutes late. She didn’t mark them as overtime work, as it had been her fault. Forcing herself not to rush, she checked that everything was correctly turned off, grasped the yucca plant – of course, she couldn’t leave it for three weeks without watering, so she would entrust her father with it – and carried it to her car, then she walked back, locked the door and set the alarm. At last, with a sigh of relief, she got in the car and drove away. Richard had just sent her a text, informing her he was about to leave the Venice airport, therefore she thought she could get home and take a shower. She would think about dinner afterwards. Probably she would just call her favourite pizza takeaway and ask for a couple of pizzas, because she surely didn’t want to waste time cooking: she had better things to do, she thought with a naughty smirk.

She quickly parked her car, then rushed into the elevator almost knocking over the pot she was carrying; when she reached the fourth and topmost floor, she hurried to her door, unlocked it after failing twice to insert the key correctly, opened it, entered and closed it, throwing her keys on the small table in the hall. Then she placed carefully the yucca on the coffee table in the sitting room and hastened to her bedroom. She opened a drawer of her dresser, grabbed what she had decided to wear and jumped in the shower. Two days before she had been to her beautician’s for a perfect hair-removal, besides in the weeks before she had had a few tanning beds and now her skin sported a wonderful golden nuance.

The shower gel had a fresh mint and citrus fruits fragrance, as well as the lotion she applied after drying. Quickly, she donned the romantic underwear in white _broderie anglaise_ , and then a short lavender dress buttoned down the front, very simple in shape, with a rather deep, square neckline, sexy but in a discreet way. Then, she slipped her feet into low thong sandals decorated with a _plumeria_ , the typical Hawaiian flower, which she had purchased in Honolulu three years before.

At that moment, she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart leaped to her mouth and she felt her knees almost giving in: in a few moments, she would see Richard…

Despite her impatience, she made sure that it was truly him.

“ _Chi è_?” (*) she asked in Italian through the entry phone.

“Someone who loves you”, she heard the British actor’s baritone voice answering. For a moment, Nives was unable to breathe, emotion overwhelming her.

“Top floor…” she finally managed to say in a whisper.

She waited for him on the landing, in front of the elevator door. It seemed to her that the car was taking forever to arrive, then, at last, the automatic door slid open and there he was, her fantastic man, more attractive than ever in jeans and white t-shirt, his hair a little longer than usual – almost like Guy of Gisborne in the first season – and sporting the beautiful beard she had greatly admired when he had attended the San Diego ComicCon the previous month. He looked at her with those astounding blue-grey eyes that had the power to make her melting, and Nives’ heart rate quickened; then, he smiled, and her heart rate went off the scale. She returned his gaze and smile, lost in them, unaware he was equally lost in hers.

Then the elevator door began to close; Richard roused and hastily pushed the trolley in front of the sensor, stopping the sliding door. Then he advanced and exited the car, dragging the luggage behind him. Nives wanted so hard to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him over and over, but she restrained herself: her landing neighbour was an old lady, as much nice as curious and gossipy, and she didn’t want to risk being seen by her, therefore she quickly took a step back, motioning to Richard to go inside; he promptly complied.

As soon as the front door closed behind them, the actor dumped his trolley and opened his arms, and Nives instantly leapt into them. Their lips met, parting at once in search of an intimate contact, tender and sensual like only the kisses of two persons in love with each other can be. Their tongues exchanged caresses as their bodies crushed together, seeking one another, hungry for each other as much as their hearts were.

“I missed you so much, Nives...” Richard whispered hoarsely, before his lips descended to brush her neck. She threw her head backwards, giving him access to the sensitive skin of her throat, which he tasted caressing it slowly with the tip of his tongue. Her scent made him dizzy.

“I too m… missed you so much, Richard…” Nives whispered back, almost stuttering because of the overwhelming joy she was feeling. Richard’s lips descended still, wandering on her chest, until they reached the swelling of her breasts over the neckline. Against her belly, Nives perceived his desire for her and a great heat blossomed between her legs in response to it. Richard affected her so much, it was almost devastating, she thought, dazed.

“I want you so badly, my sweet Italian girl...” the actor murmured, climbing again towards her mouth in a never-stopping chain of tiny kisses. “ _You_...” he added, emphasising the word to make her understand he wasn’t speaking just about her body.

“And I want _you_ ”, she squawked, breathless. Richard lifted her into his arms; as he couldn’t orient in her apartment, where he was setting foot for the first time, he carried her toward the couch he had caught sight of from the small entry. He closed the door of the sitting room pushing it with his elbow – he didn’t want anyone passing by on the landing hearing compromising sounds through the entrance door – and placed her carefully down on the cushions. He looked into her eyes, searching for a sign of approval, but she reached for him, therefore he bent down, kissing her again passionately. Nives kissed him back with equal fervour, caressing his broad back until she reached his belt. She slipped her hands under his shirt and climbed back, this time brushing his bare skin with her fingertips, scratching him lightly with her nails. She heard him sigh and, encouraged, she lifted the garment. He withdrew, raising his arms to allow her taking it off; as soon he was bare-chested, Nives placed her hands on his muscular torso and caressed his nipples with her fingertips. Richard sighed again in delight, and then he started unbuttoning her dress. He opened it, revealing the romantic white lingerie she was wearing under it.

“Nice...” he whispered, before bending down to place his lips on one side of her bra’s cup. He outlined it on the soft mound it contained; feeling his mouth on her, Nives gasped in pleasure. The heat between her thighs became even more intense; she convulsively clenched her legs, seeking in vain relief.

Richard withdrew and made her lift her upper body in order to allow him to remove her dress, which he then tossed on the floor, next to the couch. She used the position to unbuckle his belt and open his jeans, so she could touch him better. She cupped the bulge of his virile exuberance and with satisfaction heard him groan.

Feeling her touching him, Richard couldn’t stop but thrust himself into that hand, which could delight him so well.

“Baby...” he gasped. “You’re walking the wire...”

“I _adore_ walking the wire with you”, she replied with a naughty chuckle. “Especially if it’s this _big_...” she added cheekily.

Richard couldn’t hold back a grin, then he groaned once more when she caressed him again; he got rid of the light canvas shoes he was wearing and pushed down jeans and boxer, kicking everything away and finally exposing himself completely naked to Nives’ devouring gaze. After the intense workout he had undergone for Hannibal, carried on for the filming of _Pilgrimage_ , he was in perfect shape, as he had been as Porter in _Strike Back’_ s time.

Noting her admiring gaze, Richard beamed boldly. “Do you like what you’re seeing?”

For a moment, Nives was stunned: this was a sentence that the Elven prince Aryon had addressed to Nerwen, in very similar circumstances. But Richard couldn’t know anything about it...

“Oh...” she muttered, blinking in the attempt to recover. “Very much, I’d say…” she replied, intentionally wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. Noticing her move, Richard felt a quiver running down his male rod as he imagined her caressing it with mouth and hands; he felt breathless.

“You’re really _naughty_...” he muttered, bending over her determined to get revenge. He unhooked her bra, then he made her lay back again on the couch and took off the garment, flinging it on the heap of the other clothes; then, he cupped her breasts, gently caressing them. Nives sighed, and a moment later sighed louder as Richard took one of the excited apexes into his mouth, brushing it with his tongue. Shivers of pleasure ran through the depths of her body, making her moan.

Slowly, the Brit went down along her body; he passed his hand over her belly, until he slipped his fingers just under the hem of her knickers, but without going any further, and then his lips followed, placing tiny, tender kisses on her abdomen, down, down to the hem of her panties. At this point, Nives was almost delirious with the desire to feel his caresses in the very spot she was catching fire and arched her back with a heartbreaking lament, clawing at the cushions. Richard took pity on her and slipped his fingers under the lace, until he brushed the centre of her femininity, wringing a gasp from her.

“R...Richard”, she panted, her breathing laboured.

“Nives”, he replied, enjoying her moans; he caressed her even more intimately, feeling her getting wetter and readier for him. He was caught by an irrepressible desire to taste her essence, therefore he quickly shoved down and away her knickers. She parted her thighs, the very thought of what was coming making her even more aroused. Richard enjoyed the view of her charming feminine flower, and then he bent down and kissed it tenderly. Nives started, then started harder as she felt his tongue opening her and leisurely penetrating her.

“Ah!” she whimpered. “Yes...”

Encouraged, he continued savouring her, intimately, sensually, until she stopped him. “N…no more, love, please, I need you...”

“And I need _you_ ”, Richard murmured, removing his lips from that delicious chalice of nectar; he rose, but only to set down on top of her. “Do you want me inside of you?” he asked softly, looking lovingly into her eyes.

Nives found that question incredibly sexy.

“Yes! Oh yes...” she answered, holding him tight with arms and legs. Therefore, he thrust gently into her comfortable warmth, enjoying every inch as he sank within her. Nives uttered a sound that was half a sigh and half a loving lament, a sound that had shivers running down his spine.

“Nives...” he moaned. “Oh, Nives...”

“Richard...!” she gasped, lifting her pelvis to meet him. They withdrew, only to move again one towards the other, again, and again, in the eternal harmony of self-giving, in a dance of love at first slow, then gradually speeding up, until it became frantic during the moments preceding completion. Nives felt pleasure building in her depths like a wave and held her breath; then, she released a loud lament of love as she reached the top. Richard felt her trembling under and around him with such force, that he couldn’t hold back a second longer. Climax washed over him and he emptied himself inside her with a long moan.

The spasms of their mutual enjoyment subsided slowly; in the end, they lay in each other’s arms, dazed by the pleasure they had just shared, which was so sublime because it wasn’t only physical.

“I dreamt of this all day”, Nives whispered, ecstatic. He looked at her, feigning a frown.

“Only today?” he asked. “I was looking forward to this for days now...”

She chuckled. “Actually, so did I... but today I simply couldn’t focus, I was constantly thinking of you, your kisses, your caresses... I even made a mess and to sort it out I had to stay ten minutes longer, when I could have left a couple of hours earlier”, she sighed with contentment. “But now you’re here and nothing else counts...”

He nodded and kissed her, slowly and deeply, as he alone could do. Nives felt like melting, literally.

“Are... are you hungry?” she asked, weakly.

“Very much”, Richard whispered on her lips. “But only for you...”

“Oh”, she swallowed empty. “What about moving to my bedroom, then...?”

“If you insist... but I’m fine here...”

They ended up making love again without even breaking apart between the first and the second time. Then, momentarily satiated, they got off the couch and Nives ordered two pizzas, which they had with a chilled rosé wine. Then, they went to bed, but they didn’t sleep at once, indulging into another loving embrace. Both were astounded at their vigour and stamina, because after all they weren’t teens with sky-high hormone levels anymore; but their mutual desire was simply too strong.

Finally, pleasantly tired, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, the way they liked to do. Though it meant waking up stiff and aching, both loved physical contact between them and, as they were forced to stay apart for long periods, they made the most of it whenever they had the chance to do so.

(*) Who is it?


	2. Chapter II: Saturday, August 8th, 2015

ghewhgewa

**Chapter II: Saturday, August 8 th, 2015**

Richard woke up and found himself alone in Nives’ bed. Slightly disappointed, he rose and put on his brief boxers; as soon as he opened the door, he smelled the delicious aroma of coffee and sweets coming from the kitchen, so he quickly headed for it. He found Nives standing before the stove, wearing just knickers and a lavender top with spaghetti straps.

Hearing him coming in, she turned halfway and smiled at him. “Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning to you”, he answered; approaching, he hugged her from behind, brushing her neck with his lips.

She threw her head back and sighed. “I know, but I wanted to make you a nice Italian breakfast...”

“Coffee smells wonderful”, the actor conceded. “Thank you, it’s a nice thought... but between finding breakfast ready and you in my arms when I wake up, I’d rather have the latter”, he went on, kissing her neck once more.

Feeling his beard brushing her skin, Nives felt a warm shiver and closed her eyes for a moment, already feeling the first signs of arousal. Richard saw her nipples pushing against the tight-fitting microfiber fabric of her top and smiled, satisfied.

“You’re really _naughty_!” Nives cried, accusing him the same way he had accused her the night before. She withdrew, escaping him, and crossed over to the oven, where she was warming up a few fragrant croissants she had bought the day before at her favourite cake shop; she checked on them, then she turned again toward Richard, who had stayed still were he was.

“You’re an eye candy...” she affirmed, tilting her head sideways and admiring him from head to toe. “Are you going to have breakfast like that?”

“As long as it’s fine with you…” the Brit smirked, crossing his arms on his chest in a pose that highlighted his biceps and pectorals. Nives felt her mouth going dry: he truly was an eye candy, a veritable Greek statue. With the difference that he wasn’t made of cold marble, but of hot flesh...

She forced herself to stop staring at him; turning, she took two large mugs from the cupboard and filled them halfway with milk, then she placed them into the microwave. Finally, she removed the croissants from the oven, placed them on a tray and gave it to Richard.

“Bring them to the table, please”, she instructed him. “I take care of the _cappuccino_.”

When the milk was warm enough, she used a small immersion blender to make it foamy, then she poured the coffee into it and carried the mugs to the table.

“Tastes good”, Richard commented, after the first bite to his _cornetto_.

“Wait till you get to the stuffing”, she exhorted him with a grin. At his third mouthful, the actor understood what she had been referring to: the filling was dark chocolate cream, absolutely delicious.

“My favourite pastry chef’s secret recipe”, she revealed. “The same he uses for the chocolates I wanted to bring you in London, but then I replaced them with the donation to _Just Give_.”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry I hadn’t had the chance to have one”, Richard declared. “Not that I mind you chose a donation instead”, he quickly added, “but I’m sure that your friend’s chocolates are as amazing as this cream and I’d like to have a taste.”

Nives’ smile broadened.

“I knew you’d say that... and I got a packet”, she made a nod. “They’re in the fridge.”

Richard flashed his irresistible smile.

“You’re truly an incredible woman”, he murmured, moving forward his foot to brush her ankle under the table.

“And that’s why you love me”, she replied with an impudent smirk. Richard’s foot crawled upwards on her calf, caressing it.

“You can say that”, he retorted as his smile broadened. Hypnotised, Nives though that he looked like the Cheshire Cat in _Alice in Wonderland_ , because she felt completely bewitched.

Meanwhile, the foot caressing her leg was climbing dangerously between her thighs. She felt her blood boil.

“You... You have no idea what you do to me”, she gasped, lowering one hand to stop him.

“Of course I have”, he whispered. “The same _you_ do to _me_...”

Nives inhaled, then it occurred to her how she could make him _pay_ for this. She broke up her croissant, dipped her forefinger into the chocolate cream, rose and, with a _very_ impish smirk, sat on Richard’s knees.

“But what...” the actor started, surprised.

“Ssshhh...” she hushed him sweetly. She applied the chocolate on his lower lip, then she quickly bent down and swept her tongue over it, licking the cream away.

“Aaahhhh...” she sighed contentedly. He grabbed her waist.

“You’re a _very bad_ girl!” he declared in a low voice. He took her hand and brought her forefinger to his mouth, cleaning it from any trace of chocolate with his tongue. Not satisfied yet, and recalling where she was particularly sensitive, he moved and took her ring-finger into his mouth, sucking gently at it. Nives quivered.

“You’re one to talk... _rascal_!” she panted. Richard slipped one arm behind her knees and the other behind her shoulders, then he rose and carried her to the bedroom, where they spent a long time, making love to one another with both body and soul.

OOO

“You didn’t tell me yet how it is kissing me with a beard”, Richard observed, after Nives had returned from the bathroom, where she had had a shower before beginning the preparations to go to her father’s for lunch.

She smiled, recalling the feeling of his soft beard on her skin, not only on her lips but on her whole body, which he had thoroughly coated with kisses.

“Very agreeable”, she answered in a low voice. “However, I still prefer you without”, she concluded.

“I’m going to shave at once”, he declared.

“There’s no need...”

“I was already planning it”, Richard reassured her. “After all, it’s hot and I prefer making without.”

“Oh well, if you say so...”

As Nives began dressing up, the Brit took his vanity bag from the trolley and headed for the bathroom, where he had a shower. He dried himself and put on fresh brief boxers, then he prepared the shaving foam with the special brush – he liked to do it the old way, better than the modern one with the cans of shaving foam and the disposable razors – and then he called Nives. She was already dressed and appeared on the threshold with a quizzical look on her face, but as soon as she saw him with the straight razor in his hand, she realised he still remembered that she had told him she found a man very sexy while shaving this way. She smiled at him and leaned her shoulder on the doorjamb: unlike in London, this time she would watch.

“Is it very difficult to shave with a straight razor?” she asked, intrigued.

“You need a bit of practice”, Richard answered in between wipes. “At the beginning, I cut and scratched myself several times, but in time I got used to this technique”, he paused as he shaved his moustache. “I hadn’t shaved this way in a while, before meeting you”, he went on, “but since you told me you think it’s sexy, I started again...” he revealed, casting her a sly glance. “At least when I have the time: in between planes, I’m content with an electric shaver.”

When he was done, he rinsed and then he applied the sandalwood-scented aftershave lotion that Nives liked so much. Finally, he turned towards her, and she caught him by surprise in throwing herself in his arms and rubbing her nose at the base of his neck.

“Mmmm, you smell so good...” she murmured against his skin. He held her tight and brushed her back.

“I’m glad you like it”, he whispered back, then he bent his head and gently kissed her lips. She sighed contentedly: _this_ was the best place in the world, in Richard’s arms...

Richard returned to the bedroom to dress; meanwhile, she brushed her hair and pulled them into a ponytail, which she then plaited into a braid, as she always did when it was so hot. That summer, the temperature was especially high, but luckily enough, both her apartment and her father’s were air-conditioned.

As she began to apply her make-up, Richard appeared on the threshold and watched her; in the mirror, their eyes met and smiled lovingly at each other. She too recalled that he found a woman sexy while applying her make-up.

“I’d like to bring a present to your father”, Richard said. “Could we stop along the way to find a bottle of wine, or a dessert?”

She pondered for a minute, and then nodded. “Dad baked a fruit tart. We can stop and pick up the suitable wine: I know an excellent wine shop, right on the way.”

Soon enough, they were ready, and they went down to the garage, where they got into Nives’ car. Richard felt edgy: he had met the parents of his past girlfriends – not that he had had many though – but this time, it was different, because Nives was the love of his life, therefore making a good impression on her father was more important than ever and he really wanted to cut a fine figure. He even prepared a few sentences in Italian.

Nives, too, felt edgy; she was one hundred percent sure that her father would like Richard, however, she couldn’t help but consider the possibility that he wouldn’t, and this had her on pins and needles.

They stopped by the wine shop Nives used to go for years; the two brothers who owned it and the shop assistant knew about her and Richard, as she had found out a few weeks after the official announcement of their relationship, in December of the previous year.

Valeria, the shop assistant, greeted her with a smile, then she raised her gaze on Richard and stared blankly at him.

“I was looking for a dessert wine”, Nives said quickly, trying to distract her. “For a fruit-tart…”

“Ah…” Valeria breathed, blinking and trying to recover, but the Brit’s amazing blue eyes weren’t of any help. “I’d suggest a red sweet wine, such as Brachetto d’Acqui…”

“Excellent idea”, Nives approved, turning to Richard to translate. He nodded in agreement.

“Two bottles”, he said. “So your father can keep one for another time.”

Valeria smiled at him shyly.

“Do you like it still or sparkling?” she asked in a hesitant English, trying to regain her professionalism.

“Sparkling”, Nives decided. “It’s more original.”

“Sure”, the younger woman confirmed. “Are you going to have it during lunch?” Nives nodded in confirmation. “Then I’ll give you one already chilled, so you have not to stress the wine putting it into the freezer to reach the service temperature quickly.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you.”

Valeria went to get the bottles, then, as she wrapped them in tissue paper before putting them into the shopper, she turned toward Nives.

“He’s even more handsome, in person”, she declared in a low voice, nodding towards the actor who was examining the whisky bottles on the shelf next to the checkout.

“I agree with that”, Nives smiled.

Encouraged, Valeria commented, still softly so that Richard wouldn’t hear. “I’m happy for you… and I’m a little envious, too, I admit it. I love my husband, but… well, Richard Armitage is Richard Armitage…”

Nives didn’t know what to answer to that, so she just nodded, smiling with a bit of embarrassment.

“Would you two mind if I ask you for a selfie of the three of us?” the cashier asked nicely. “Because when I’m going to tell people, they won’t believe me…”

Taken by surprise, Nives hesitated for a moment: she kept forgetting that she was exposed to fame because of her relationship with Richard Armitage.

“I’ll ask him”, she answered. Richard accepted without a blink, always polite as his nature was. Valeria grabbed her smartphone and shot a selfie, then she thanked them both wholeheartedly. The actor payed for the wine and finally he and Nives exited, getting back into her car.

“It’s still thrilling for me, when people recognise me on the streets… or, as in this case, in a shop”, Richard declared.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Nives enquired, popping the car into gear.

“Not when they’re as discreet as the lady in the shop”, he affirmed. “Sometimes I came across overexcited fans, and once I got scared by one: a lady stalked me for days before police caught her.”

“I knew nothing about this… When did it happen?” Nives asked, alarmed.

“Two years ago in New York… This lady had found out where my flat is located and she waited for me every day in front of the main entrance, then she followed me at a distance. She never did anything dangerous, but I felt very uncomfortable being incessantly tailed and watched. Therefore, I reported to the police and they intervened.”

Nives shuddered.

“What an _obnoxious_ thing”, she commented in a low voice. “I think it’s part of the price you pay for celebrity, right…?”

“Yeah, right, regrettably”, he confirmed. “The downside of it… but I try not to complain. After all, it’s me that wanted to be an actor, nobody forced me, so now it’d be very hypocrite from my part to whine, wouldn’t it?”

“However, there are people who _do_ whine”, Nives observed, referring to some of his colleagues. Richard shrugged.

“These people should think better”, he said tersely. “Or find themselves another job…”

Soon enough, they had arrived at Nives father’s. She parked in the private courtyard of the four-flat-condo where Luigi Nardini lived, then they got off the car and headed for the main entrance. An elderly woman came to one of the windows of the apartment under Luigi’s, and seeing Nives, she smiled. “Hi dear, how are you?”

“Fine, Lorena, you too?”

“Yep, I’m alright, thanks.”

Lorena looked at the handsome man with Nives, without recognising him, but she asked no questions and simply greeted him with a smiling nod, which he returned with equal politeness. It wasn’t customary that Nives came to see her father with a male escort, but very unobtrusively, the neighbour retained her curiosity.

Nives rang the bell, three short strokes that conventionally signalled it was she, so her father had no need to ask who it was. Indeed, a few moments later the door unlocked and opened.

They went up to the first floor and found the door ajar, so they entered directly.

“Here we are!” Nives announced, as Richard closed the door behind them.

“Coming!” called her father from the kitchenette, from which came a delicious aroma.

Luigi appeared on the threshold and smiled at his daughter, then he raised his gaze to her escort. Nives had told him that Richard was tall, but seeing him in person was something else: not only was he tall, he was also broad, with strong shoulders and muscular arms hugged by the white t-shirt he was wearing. Richard returned Nives’ father’s gaze openly, trying to look guileless and forthright and confident, but his stomach was actually squeezing.

Luigi came to his daughter and hugged her, then he withdrew from her and she hastened to introduce them to each other.

“Dad, this is Richard”, she said in Italian. “Richard, this is my father, Luigi.”

The two men held out their hands simultaneously.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Nardini”, Richard said in perfect Italian, with just a slight accent. Luigi was surprised to hear him speaking Dante’s tongue.

“My pleasure, Riccardo”, he replied anyway. “I thought you didn’t speak Italian…”

That answer was already beyond Richard’s still limited knowledge of the local idiom, therefore he looked at Nives for help. She translated and so he answered in English. “Oh no, I wish I could! But I’m trying to learn at least something.”

“I see”, Luigi nodded after his daughter had translated. “Nives told me you like pasta very much, therefore I thought about cooking my favourite, the _amatriciana_.”

Nives translated, explaining _amatriciana_ with _bacon in spicy tomato sauce_.

“Judging by the smell, I’m sure it’s excellent”, Richard declared, by the cook’s satisfaction; then, he handed him the shopper with the bottles. “One for the tart and the other for your cellar”, he said.

Luigi thanked him warmly for the thought. Nives took the already chilled bottle and stored it into the fridge.

“Would you please serve the aperitifs?” Luigi asked his daughter. “There’s a bottle of Prosecco in the fridge. You can make white spritz, or if you prefer, you can tip them with Campari …”

“Of course, I’ll take care of that”, Nives assured him. “Would you go and sit while I prepare the drinks?” she asked Richard, showing him the two couches on the other side of the living room. He nodded and, shortly after, she joined him carrying a tray, on which sat a small bowl with chips and three glasses with the typical Venice aperitif, the white spritz, meaning just Prosecco with water. Due to the torrid temperature of this summer day, she preferred to avoid adding alcohol content with Campari, and abounded with ice.

“It’s scorching hot in England too”, Richard revealed, accepting the glass she was handing him. “I think this is the hottest summer in the last twenty years.”

“Yeah, I heard that”, Nives confirmed, sitting next to him on the couch. “Luckily, they invented air-conditioners”, she added, nodding toward the device in the corner of the room. Luigi never kept temperatures too low, just enough to feel comfortable, as she herself did in her apartment.

“I’d make them a monument”, the actor joked.

Nives’ father joined them at that moment and sat on the other couch in front of them; Richard raised his glass in a toast.

“To our encounter”, he said. “I’m really pleased to meet you, Mr Nardini: Nives told me a lot about you.”

When Nives finished translating, the older man shook his head.

“Let’s drop the _mister_ : my name is Luigi”, he said, beaming. Richard nodded.

“Well, okay then”, he agreed, raising his glass again. They toasted and took a sip.

“Nives told me you’re a Formula One fan”, Richard went on. “I like it, too, though I have not much time to keep up with it. And despite I’m a Brit, believe it or not, I’m a Ferrari fan. My myths are Villeneuve – Gilles of course – and Schumacher, but I like Barrichello and Alonzo, too…”

“Oh, that’s good!” Luigi cried with enthusiasm. “To be honest, I can’t stand Raikkonen: though he’s good, I think he’s really unpleasant…”

They went on chatting about Formula One and then about Motorcycle World Championship; Richard admitted that, though he liked Valentino Rossi very much – Nives was a great fan of the Italian pilot – his favourite was Englishman Cal Crutchlow.

The timer in the kitchen rang.

“I’m going to drain the pasta”, Luigi announced, rising. “Nives, you take care of the wine, yes?”

“Of course!”

Nives took a bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo to the table, a dry, full-bodied red wine suited to clean one’s mouth from the vaguely sweet taste of the carefully defatted bacon that Luigi had used for the _amatriciana_ sauce; surprised, Richard noted it was chilled from the fridge.

“Shouldn’t be red wine served at room temperature?” he asked.

“Sure”, she smiled amused. “However, if the temperature is 25° C like here at home, or 35° C like outside, you’d drink almost mulled wine.”

Richard laughed. “You’re right, I never considered that!”

Nives laughed in turn.

“Actually”, she continued her impromptu lesson, “red wine should be served between 16 and 18° C, 20 if it’s a very fine and important wine. Some young wines are served almost as chilled as a white wine.”

“And here I just learnt something new about wine…”

“If I get boring, please stop me at once”, she exhorted him, worried she could exaggerate.

Luigi joined them with a bowl full of _bucatini_ , (*) placing it next to Nives.

“Please, help yourselves”, he invited them, sitting at the head of the table.

Nives filled up her dish, then passed the bowl to Richard.

“Abound with it”, she recommended him. “So you’ll make the cook happy.”

“Gladly”, he reassured her. “That won’t be a problem, it looks and smell delicious!”

“To be perfect, we’d need Roman _pecorino_ ”, Luigi observed after Nives’ translation. “But in it’s absence, we stick to the usual _grana Padano_ …”

This time Nives had some difficulties to explain, as the names of those typical cheeses were not translatable, therefore she described them as _Roman mature cheese made of sheep milk_ , and _Venetian mature cheese made of cow milk_ , explaining the difference in taste. However, she discovered that both _pecorino_ and _grana_ translated as much, though Richard was familiar only with the latter.

The food obtained a deserved success, to the point that Richard asked for a second helping and obtained it; the wine was equally appreciated.

When they finished, they chatted a little more, then Luigi rose.

“And now, the cake”, he announced.

“We clear the table”, Nives told him, rising in turn. She and Richard took away dishes and glasses, changing them with small dessert plates and glasses suited for the sweet red wine. After that, Nives retrieved the bottle of Brachetto from the fridge and took it to the table, followed by Luigi with the pie.

“Peach tart like Nives’ mother used to bake”, he announced, placing it on the table. “But with ready _brisé_ pastry”, he admitted.

“Did you use the grated almonds?” Nives enquired and he nodded to confirm. “It was my mum’s special touch”, she recalled wistfully.

Luigi cut the cobbler in four pieces and placed three on their dessert plates.

“You can eat it with your hands”, he instructed Richard. “Don’t stand on ceremony.”

Uncorking the bottle, Nives translated.

“The pastry is very crispy”, she added. “It’d be difficult to use fork and knife, and anyway, we’re not at a gala dinner…”

“Oh, well then!” Richard laughed, delighted. “There’s something incredibly pleasant at eating with your hands!”

“Maybe that’s because hands have been humankind’s first cutlery”, Luigi commented, and Richard nodded with emphasis. Suddenly, the actor realised he was completely at ease: Luigi had managed make him feel comfortable. He was a very nice man; after all, he had raised a daughter like Nives and therefore it couldn’t be otherwise, Richard considered.

The tart was delicious and the Brachetto was the perfect wine to go with it.

It was simply too hot for traditional coffee, therefore Nives made a mocha, poured its content into a shaker with ice and a little sugar, then she shook it vigorously, serving it chilled.

At this point, Nives turned to her father. “Dad, what about showing Richard a few family photos?”

She knew he would like that, because they had talked about it before he came to Italy. Luigi was very glad to accept, and Nives produced a few old photo albums, taking them from a cupboard. The first was the wedding photo album of Luigi and Tina, with beautiful black and white pictures portraying two radiant young people. The second one documented Nives’ life from before her birth – there was a wonderful photo of Tina with a baby-bump – up to her twelfth birthday and Richard felt moved at seeing his beloved as a newborn, a toddler and a little girl. The third album recorded Tina’s and Luigi’s Golden Anniversary, which had been celebrated both in a Celtic way – with Nives performing a ceremony renewing their bond – and in a traditional way with a lavish lunch together with a good number of friends.

As they finished looking at the photos, Luigi turned to Richard.

“I’ve seen you performing a soldier of the special service”, he began. “Do you know I was a security guard?” Richard nodded: Nives had told him as much. “Of course, I hadn’t as powerful guns as your character had, but I used a beautiful semiautomatic Beretta 7.65 and a Smith & Wesson 3.57 revolver. Would you like to see them?”

Richard didn’t like firearms, but Luigi’s eyes shone and it was clear that he was passionate about the topic, therefore he hadn’t the heart to say no and nodded.

As her father went getting the pistols, Nives looked at Richard apologetically. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not fond of guns…”

“No problem”, the Brit reassured her with a tiny smile. “It’s okay, I’m glad to please your father having him show me his guns.”

“You’re so sweet”, she whispered, bending over to give him a peck on his lips.

Luigi returned and proudly showed the pistols he had used as a security guard. Luckily, he had never needed them, except one time, in a fight for an attempted robbery to an armoured van he was escorting. He and his colleagues emerged unscathed; not so the robbers, as the police found out discovering their car stained with blood. However, unfortunately they never caught the muggers.

Nives surprised Richard when, to show him the Beretta, she took it with confidence, racking it to make sure there was no bullet in the chamber and then handed it to him. Noticing his wondering gaze, she smiled at him.

“You don’t think that, having firearms in the house, I didn’t consider it appropriate learning to use them, do you?” she asked. “If only not to risk shooting myself”, she added laughing.

“Oh well”, the actor muttered. “I must agree with that.”

“I’m no good shooter”, she said then. “Nor do I have such a great passion for the practice, but as they were here…” she concluded, shrugging.

“You did well”, Richard commented. “If one knows how to correctly use a dangerous tool, be it a gun or an electric saw, the risk of hurting oneself is highly diminished.”

It was past five o’clock when Nives, noticing her father was tired, decided it was time to take their leave. Richard shook hands with Luigi, and then the latter hugged him.

“Listen, son”, he told him. “From man to man: make my daughter happy.”

Nives blushed: Luigi hadn’t uttered any threat nor used an intimidating tone, but his warning was clear.

Richard looked at Nives waiting for the translation, and she told him in a clearly embarrassed tone; but the actor looked at his _father-in-law_ very seriously.

“I promise you that I’ll do whatever I can to make Nives happy”, he declared. “Because there’s nothing I want more.”

Again, she blushed. She looked at Richard with glittering eyes before translating for her father, who nodded solemnly.

“Every promise is a debt”, he reminded the Brit. Nives racked her brain to find the most fitting translation, which is _a man’s word is his bond_. Richard nodded with equal solemnity.

“Happy holidays then”, Luigi wished them, hugging his daughter. “And please, Nives, give Raffaella and Jerry my love. I hope they’ll manage to come and see us again soon”, he added, recalling the last time her friends had come, on a New Year’s Day.

“Maybe we can do that next autumn”, she said. “I could invite them for a long weekend.”

“That would be nice”, the elderly man approved.

Finally, they took their leave. As they got in the car, Richard asked. “What about a little sightseeing of your town?”

“There isn’t much to see”, she warned him. “But I gladly take you for a short tour. However, we’ll stay in the car: it’s far too hot for a stroll…”

Actually, the heat was scorching, so he accepted without hesitation.

Nives drove through the small centre of her hometown, where she showed him the beautiful eighteenth century cathedral in Neoclassical style, built on a knoll that had been entirely covered. In front of it stood a statue, informally called the _Omo_ , meaning _Man_ in Venetian tongue, which a famous local entrepreneur of the nineteenth century, who later became senator of the Italian Kingdom, had dedicated to his weavers. The evident parallel with _North and South_ jumped immediately to Richard’s attention.

“He looks a little like Nicholas Higgins”, he considered, referring to the statue, thinking it resembled to one of the characters of the BBC miniseries.

“You’re right!” Nives admitted, who had never thought about it. “Except for the moustache”, she then added, thinking better. “But as for the rest – including his cap – he could very well be Higgins himself”, she concluded smiling.

They turned a corner and crossed a modern and unattractive square, then they took a narrow street, where a small little medieval church was located at the far end.

“St. Mary in the Valley”, Nives told Richard. “As you see, it stands in the dale between two hills, the Castle Hill – now the only remains of the building are the chapel and the crenelated tower turned into bell tower, and a few brickworks – and the Friars’ Hill, so named because there’s a church with a convent of Franciscan friars. Both hills are beautiful public parks.”

They drove up the Castle Hill; on its top stood a building that once had been Nives’ middle school, while now it was home to the local training school for teachers. From there, Nives turned back, descending the northern side of the low hill range ending with the Castle Hill.

“Let’s go for a little tour around”, Nives suggested impulsively. “I’ll show you my mom’s village… and if you like, where she’s buried. It will be a little like introducing you to her…” she concluded as a lump formed in her throat. She missed her mother very much, even after almost three years after her passing.

“Of course I’d like that”, Richard accepted at once.

She therefore drove him to the small settlement adjacent to her hometown, in which Tina had been born. She took him to visit the little church where her parents had married and that Richard had seen in the photo album, an eighteenth century building dedicated to the Madonna; it stood on the site where, in ancient times, a temple to Diana was located, the Roman transposition of Reitia, the goddess of the ancient Venetians, as Nives explained to him. Afterwards, they headed for the cemetery, where Richard insisted on entering to visit Tina’s tomb, though the thermometer said 37° C. As they came to the burial plot, Nives brushed the picture portraying her mother, which she had personally shot a couple of years before her passing; Tina wore a beautiful dress in blue velvet that she had sewn with her own hands.

“Hi mum”, she said. “Here’s Richard for you…”

Her voice faltered as tears began streaking her cheeks. Richard pulled her to him, holding her to his chest and cuddling her. He too felt a lump in his throat.

“Hello Tina”, he whispered. “Nice to meet you…” 

Hearing his words, Nives felt deeply moved and wept even harder in the reassuring circle of her man’s arms, soaking his t-shirt with tears. The actor waited for her to quieten her emotion, cradling her to him and kissing her hair tenderly, making her feel his solidarity and empathy.

Finally, she withdrew, sniffing; he pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her, so she could dab her eyes.

“Sorry”, Nives whispered. “I didn’t want to cry… it’s just that she would’ve been so happy to meet you and know that I’m not alone anymore… it was her greatest gripe and I’m so very sad that she died with it…”

“But she knows”, Richard affirmed in a low voice. “Wherever she may be now, _she knows_ , never doubt this, and she’s happy for you, for us”, he turned toward the photo, from which Nives’ mother smiled and looked at them. “I thank you for having given birth to this wonderful woman I was lucky enough to meet and to make fall in love with me”, he said with unmistakable emotion.

Nives shed more tears, holding him tight. She said nothing, but she thought _she_ was the lucky one, for his same reason: never, ever would she dream about Richard Armitage falling in love _precisely_ with her. She doubted she would ever truly believe it.

Finally, they said goodbye to Tina and went back to the car, which Nives had luckily been able to park in the shadow of some cypresses, otherwise it would have turned into an oven; nevertheless, she had to turn the air-conditioning on full-blast as not to gasp because of the heat.

On their way back home, an inspiration struck her.

“Do you remember me talking about my friend Franco making a fantastic extra chocolate ice cream?” she asked, and seeing Richard furrowing his brow, she explained. “When it’s so hot I don’t feel like eating, often I have dinner with a big ice cream cup. What about doing it tonight?”

“Happily!” the actor agreed with a childish eagerness that had her smiling: she was well aware he had a thing for chocolate ice cream and didn’t doubt he would be delighted with it.

“Franco’s wife is an Englishwoman, from Manchester”, she revealed. “Her name’s Alison.”

“Really? I have relatives in Manchester…”

As they returned downtown, where the ice cream shop was located, they were lucky enough to find a parking place just a few metres away, so they didn’t have to be exposed to the evening mugginess for too long. As soon as they set foot into the shop, the girl behind the counter smiled.

“Hello, Nives!” she greeted her.

“Hello Sara, how are you doing?”

“Fine, thanks. Luckily here it’s cool, I really cannot imagine how people manage to work where there’s no air-conditioning…” he voice trailed off as, observing Nives’ escort, she finally recognised him. “But is he…?”

“Yep, it’s him”, Nives answered quickly. “But he’s in incognito.”

Sara brought her hand to her chest and beamed.

“He came here to see you? How nice!” she cried. “You know, reading about you and him in the internet is one thing, but seeing you together it’s something entirely different… what a thrill!” she switched to a hesitating English. “Nice to meet you, Mr Armitage…”

“My pleasure”, he answered politely with a nod and a smile that sent Sara’s heart racing, but he was completely unaware of this.

“Hum… is Alison there?” Nives intervened.

“Yes, I’ll go get her”, the girl said, moving towards the workshop where they made the ice cream. “Alison, Nives is here, and she brought a special person…”

A few moments later, on the threshold appeared a rotund woman around fifty, with a bob of blond, straight hair and blue eyes. She addressed a smile to Nives, a smile that turned into an ‘O’ of wonder as soon as she realised who her escort was.

“Good heavens!” she cried in English, hastily coming forth from behind the counter. “What an honour, Mr Armitage…” she said, offering him her hand. “Nives told me a lot about you… I admit I didn’t know you before”, she added, making a funny face. “But afterwards I watched some of your works and I congratulate you for the good job.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you”, Richard said, pleased, shaking hands with her. “And Nives told me a lot about your fantastic chocolate ice cream”, he added, laughing. Alison, too, laughed.

“Ha, it’s actually her passion: every time she comes, she asks four scoops, one of extra chocolate and the others of my choosing… Shall I do it this time, too?” she enquired, looking at Nives, her bright eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“Of course!” Nives answered vivaciously. Richard signalled he, too, was okay with it.

“Are you going to have it here or do you want it to take away?”

“Take away, thanks.”

Alison prepared two cups, putting in each one scoop of extra chocolate, and then varying the other types of ice cream in order to obtain seven flavours in total, which she counted up to them: raspberry, blueberry and yogurt with ginger into one cup, coconut, mango and apple with cinnamon into the other one. Richard complimented her for the originality of some flavours and Alison felt very pleased.

“Let me know your opinion, both of you”, she asked them as she wrapped up the two cups with several biscuits.

“Definitely”, Nives assured her. Richard insisted on paying, and then they took leave and headed back to the car.

Dinner was very refreshing, while the after-dinner, on the contrary, turned out very _hot_ …

(*) Sort of thick, hollow spaghetti.


	3. Chapter III: Saturday, August 8th, 2015

**Chapter III: Saturday, August 8 th, 2015**

Raffaella searched anxiously the people exiting the small Elban airport, located at La Pila; her heart thumped hard: although they were married for almost six and a half years, three weeks apart had made her miss greatly her husband Jerry.

One month earlier, Jerry’s mother Vanessa had suffered a riding accident; fearing for her life, Jerry and Raffaella had rushed by her bedside along with the woman’s other sons and daughters. Luckily, her concussion had turned out to be much less serious than it had looked at first and the vivacious over-seventy-years-old lady – still a beautiful woman, looking a lot like Jerry – had soon returned home. Raffaella had exhorted her husband to stay a few weeks more and enjoy his numerous family, whom he hadn’t seen in almost three years, while she had to return home and take care of their estate’s business, which of course never stopped and made it difficult to be away both at the same time for too long.

Anyway, Jerry couldn’t resist a long time away from his wife. After about twenty days, Vanessa had almost completely recovered and therefore, as she wouldn’t be alone because all of her other daughters and sons lived within an one-hour-drive, he had said goodbye to her and set off for Italy. Besides his natural wish to be with his wife, Jerry didn’t want to miss Nives’ arrival with her fiancé Richard Armitage, who was one of his favourite actors.

The small aircraft coming from Pisa had landed punctually at 11.15; only fifteen minutes had passed, but Raffaella was already crazy with impatience.

At last, after five more minutes, she caught sight of her husband, his small trolley in tow and a technical backpack on his shoulders, both not very big. Raffaella always wondered how light Jerry could travel – once he had told her that he needed only a little food, for the rest his needs were those of a caveman’s. Raffaella’s heart leaped in her chest for the joy to see her husband again; she raised her arm and waved them in greeting.

Jerry saw Raffaella at once. He felt as if the world vanished as her gorgeous welcoming smile blinded him. He hastened to meet her and, as soon as he was in front of her, he tossed his backpack and trolley and opened his arms. She threw herself into them, holding him tight.

“Welcome back home”, she whispered, here brown eyes shining with happiness. Jerry bent down and kissed her lips, long but chaste because he didn’t like to show off in public.

“Thanks, honey”, he whispered back, the last word in English, the typical American term of endearment. They spoke fluently each other’s tongue, and it happened often that they started a sentence in one to finish it in the other, or that they mixed words of both languages in a small, funny Babel.

“Did you have a good trip?” Raffaella enquired.

“Yeah, I slept all the way through LA to London, so I’ll recover quickly from the jet lag”, Jerry told her. “Long live the first class and the night flights”, he added, his blue eyes twinkling with humour.

“That’s good”, she commented. “Come on, let’s go”, she exhorted him, grabbing his hand.

“Mum sends you her love”, Jerry told her as they headed for the car. “And the whole Runner tribe as well, siblings, spouses and children. Alyssa sends a kiss, a hug and a present.”

Alyssa was the daughter Jerry had from his first wife, a famous Canadian model he had married at a young age whom he divorced turbulently after a few years. Luckily, after some time things between them had settled, if only for the love of their baby girl, and though their relation was very cold, at least it was civil. Now Alyssa was nineteen years old and, being a true informatics genius, she was profitably attending the CalTech, which tuition Jerry was more than happy to pay for, having regard of the results. Alyssa adored Raffaella and the Elba Island, and each summer she came to spend four weeks with her father, usually between June and July. Thanks to her, they had enhanced the computer support of their estate. Jerry was very proud of his daughter, and the only disappointment was that she had no aptitude for archery, though she had tried it to please him.

“A present?” Raffaella was pleasurably surprised. “How nice from her! I can’t wait to see what it is.”

They had now come to the car, a comfortable Ford Edge 4x4 – it was black with unusual purple bolts of lightning that Raffaella had had specially made in a body shop – which she had parked it in the shadow of the only palm-tree adorning the small airport car park

“I’ll show you right now”, Jerry offered, knowing well his wife’s poor ability to be patient. He placed his backpack on the back seat, then put the trolley in the trunk and opened it, searching it until he found what he was looking for. He handed the packet with the present to his wife and watched her with amusement as she tore at the coloured wrapping, not caring in the least to hide her childish impatience to discover its contents. Her delicate features brightened with joy as soon as she saw what it was: a comic book collecting the entire saga of Captain Harlock, one of Raffaella’s childhood heroes. A greeting card came with it, with just four simple words: To _Raflesia from Alyssa_. The Roman woman laughed aloud: given the similarity between the names, Jerry’s daughter sometimes liked to call her _stepmother_ with the name of the Queen of Mazone, indomitable adversary of the mythical space pirate created by Leiji Matsumoto.

“What a fantastic present!” Raffaella cried, tears welling up in her eyes. As she hadn’t been able to have children and missing motherhood, she had been lucky with Alyssa, who was the perfect surrogate, though she could see her only twice a year, in summer when the girl came to Elba and at Christmas when Raffaella and Jerry went to California. “I’ll call her via Skype to thank her, as soon as it’ll be a decent hour in Napa”, she went on, placing the book back in her husband’s suitcase.

“She’ll be pleased”, Jerry affirmed. They got into the car and Raffaella started the engine, switching on the air-conditioner at once to abate the inside temperature inside, searing despite the car had been parked in the shadow. Then, she turned around and drove slowly along the narrow street leading to the main road. In terms of distance, the airport was just over thirty kilometres away from the Altariva Estate, but as the route was very circuitous due to the peculiar morphology of the island, they would need almost one hour to get there.

On the way, Raffaella told Jerry how the gourmet evening of the previous week had gone – one of the reasons she had to return, leaving him alone by his mother – as for the first time a few local authorities had attended it, among them the mayor and the councillor for culture of Capoliveri, and the latter’s female colleague from Portoferraio.

“Not bad, I’d say”, Jerry commented, pleased. “What about becoming bold and inviting the president of the province for the next event, at the end of August?”

“Ugh! You know how much I _love_ politicians… I’d rather have a famous sommelier, possibly a woman, like Fabiana Gargioli. Or a really nice chef, like Antonino Cannavacciuolo or Bruno Barbieri.”

“Not Cracco?” the American man grinned. Raffaella laughed.

“I’d have him only to fling a few plates at him”, she declared. “Like he does with those poor contestants in _Masterchef_!”

Jerry echoed her laugh: he, too, thought that Carlo Cracco was insufferably arrogant.

“Maybe his behaviour is just a setup”, he considered anyway, pensively.

“Maybe”, conceded his wife. “But the result remains the same, making me want to hurl a tray full of hot mashed potatoes at him, or drown him into one of our barrels…”

“And ruin the wine? Never!” Jerry exclaimed with feigned horror. They laughed again and Raffaella thought about something Nives had told her a few years earlier: laughing with the person you love is one of the most beautiful things in life. At that time, her friend had been single and had said it in a light tone, which however hadn’t entirely concealed her sadness for her condition. Knowing that she was now with the man she had always described as he _dream love_ made Raffaella very happy for her.

After the hilarious moment, she and Jerry were silent for several minutes, as Raffaella dealt with an especially tortuous stretch of road. Jerry enjoyed the view out of the car window: the spectacular panorama of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which colour changed from the aquamarine blue of the underlying beach of Acquarilli to the sapphire blue of the deep sea.

“I missed all this terribly”, he said in a soft voice. Neither he nor his wife were Elban by birth, but the island had won their hearts irremediably and, as Nives always said laughing, they got _elbitis_ , just like her. “I’m happy to be back home”, he concluded, turning to watch Raffaella’s pretty profile with its little pinched nose.

“And I’m happy you’re back home”, she said in a low voice. “I missed you greatly.”

“And I missed you as much… You made no plans for today, did you?”

His tone was tender: it was clear that he wasn’t just talking about his intention to make love to her as soon as they got home, but also about their deeper connection, the one that linked their souls and hearts.

Raffaella addressed him a smile full of love.

“No plans”, she reassured him.

During the whole time, the music coming from the hi-fi system had been playing in the background. At that moment, over the speakers came an old and world-famous song by Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross, _Endless Love_.

“This is one of the most beautiful love songs ever written”, Jerry commented. After the bow, his greatest love was the piano, which he played more than discreetly. He had a nice voice, and often he entertained his guests with a few songs, especially from the repertoires of Frank Sinatra, Bryan Adams and Tina Turner, even during the gourmet evenings.

Raffaella had no time to agree, that Jerry slightly turned up the volume and began singing Lionel Ritchie’s part. Her voice was nothing near excellent and, for this reason, she never sang in public along with him, but she was tuneful and privately they had fun improvising duets, therefore she didn’t hesitate to perform Diana Ross at the best of her abilities. The piece was a veritable love poem put into music and expressed perfectly the deep sentiment that joined the Italian American couple.

When the song ended, Jerry brushed his wife’s arm.

“Pull over for a minute”, he said, his voice slightly trembling with emotion. “I need to kiss you...”

“Me too”, Raffaella whispered, equally thrilled. A little further, she caught sight of a widening on the side of the road and pulled over, halting the car; she put the handbrake on and the gear on neutral, then she turned to her husband. Jerry bent over to her and gathered her into his arms.

“I love you, Raffi”, he murmured. Raffaella looped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. Their lips met, parting at once seeking the intimate contract of their tongues, as much exciting as sweet. Tenderness quickly mingled with desire – three weeks separation had been hard on both of them, because since they had met, they had never been apart for so long – and their kisses became increasingly intense. Finally, Jerry sighed and withdrew from his wife’s delicious mouth.

“Be... better get moving”, he muttered, slightly breathless. “The sooner we get home, the better.”

“I totally agree”, Raffaella chuckled. She put the car back in gear and they restarted.

The last stretch was a dirt road, purposely kept this way for historical memory because it was the same road leading to the old iron mine of Monte Calamita [Mount Magnet] – abandoned in the Eighties of the previous century – a part of which could be visited.

It was half past twelve when Raffaella took the access road to the beautiful Nineteenth-Century villa that was their house. Its previous owners had kept it well and it was uninhabited only for a few years when Raffaella had purchased it along with the vineyards, so it had needed only a little renovation and just a few repairs. The only relevant renovations had been the installation of a swimming pool in the large garden and the enlargement of the terrace overlooking the sea. The furnishings had been completely renovated, but Raffaella had kept a style – the Tuscan – suited to the setting; even the kitchen, though it had been equipped with ultramodern domestic appliances.

After parking under the shed, next to Jerry’s electric blue Alfa Romeo Stelvio, they got off the car and unloaded the luggage, and then entered into the house.

“I asked Marcella to prepare lunch by one o’clock”, said Raffaella, referring to their cook. “If you like, you have plenty of time to take a shower.”

“Yes, after such a long journey I need it, as comfortable as first class might be”, Jerry accepted gratefully.

They got upstairs to their room, which was furnished in walnut wood, in the warm colours of beige and hazel.

Jerry’s gaze fell on the bed and unavoidably thousand memories of the delights he experienced into it with Raffaella came to his mind. In spite of the turned-on air-conditioning that gave a nice coolness to the room, he suddenly felt hot.

“Better if I go taking that shower at once”, he sighed. “Then we can go downstairs and have lunch... but afterwards, I’d like to be alone with you...”

“We can eat later”, Raffaella giggled. The archer’s light eyes sparkled dangerously. “Beware! Don’t say it twice...!” he cried.

Her smile turned mischievous.

“We can eat later”, she repeated. “We just need to warn Marcella... but at this point, I’d give the afternoon off both to her and to Salvo”, she declared, her eyes shining with an impish light, referring to the cook’s son who worked as a waiter for them.

Jerry wetted his suddenly dry lips.

“I agree”, he said in a low voice.

“Fine, so while you’re showering, I’ll tell Marcella about the change of plan. See you soon” she said with an impish grin. Looking at her exiting the room, slightly swaying hips – tightly hugged in purple Capri leggings – Jerry thought that his jeans had suddenly shrunk by a size. He pushed the trolley in a corner, topping it with the backpack – he would unpack later – and headed straight for the septet drawer where he kept his underwear, then, with a naughty smirk, he thought that he actually didn’t need any and gave it up.

He headed for the bathroom annexed to the bedroom. It was a large and luminous space; as the rest of the villa, Raffaella had designed the furnishing personally. On one side, embedded into a platform covered with dark tiles, accessible through three steps, stood an oval Jacuzzi; next to it, protected by a thermal glass and inserted into the wall, was a fireplace, interfacing with the bedroom, spectacular when lit in winter evenings. On the other side stood a large walk-in shower, with vertical jets and steam bath. Quickly, Jerry undressed and slipped under the water spray falling from the shower head in the ceiling of the cabin.

Meanwhile, Raffaella had walked downstairs to the kitchen; here, she found the cook, a strong-built woman around fifty native of Sorrento, who was about to put the pasta into the boiling water.

“Wait, Marcella”, Raffaella asked her. “Jerry and I decided to eat later.”

The cook was disappointed, but just for a minute, the time she needed to grasp the reason of the delay.

“I see”, she chuckled, turning off the stove. “No problem, you’ll tell me when you two want to have lunch.”

“Never mind, please take the afternoon off, you and Salvo too”, Raffaella quickly said. Marcella’s smile broadened.

“Of course, madam”, she said, taking her apron off. “In your place, I too would be alone with my hubby, and so much for lunch... And believe me, in my time I did it, and even often!” she concluded laughing. Raffaella, too, laughed: she had known Marcella and her son Salvo – cook and waiter who had both qualified at the Ischia Hotel School – since she had come to live in the villa, after the renovation, that is, eight years earlier. This had happened because Raffaella had immediately realised she couldn’t take care of this large house alone, not with having to take care also of the vineyards, which cultivation she had personally supervised during the first years. As the success of the wines she produced increased, she had begun delegating accordingly most of this part of her business to devote herself to public relations, among them her favourite was organising the gourmet evenings.

“Well then, Salvo and me are going to come back to prepare dinner”, Marcella said, heading for the door. “The usual hour is okay? Eight o’clock?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. Thanks, Marcella.”

“No need to thank me, you just enjoy your man and don’t think at anything else!” the older woman exclaimed, beaming at her affectionately. After eight years, she was allowed to speak freely with her employer. After all, Raffaella Romani was a sunny person to whom it was easy to grow attached.

Raffaella smiled in turn.

“I’m going to do that, Marcella, you can bet on it”, she assured her with a mischievous giggle that broadened the other woman’s grin.

After Marcella was gone, Raffaella returned upstairs; Jerry was still under the shower, so she drew the curtains to create some romantic shade, then she pushed back the bedspread. Assuming that Jerry would be almost naked coming back into their bedroom, she undressed completely, except for her French knickers in white lace, romantically sexy, and waited for him lying on her belly, facing the door to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Jerry came in, wearing only a towel around his hips. He immediately caught sight of her and stopped dead for a moment, pleasantly taken aback. Then, a slow, naughty smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards and he tugged at the towel, dropping it to the floor revealing him in his full masculinity. Raffaella looked at him appreciatively: though he was no longer a pro, Jerry stayed in shape and therefore his physique was still positively athletic.

“Better than the Riace Bronzes”, she murmured in Italian, chewing at her lower lip. He arched one eyebrow, amused and flattered.

“Do you still like me so much?” he asked. “After all these years?”

“Oh yes”, Raffaella confirmed. “You’re gorgeous.”

Jerry shook his head. “Not as gorgeous as you, honey...”

He sat on the bed beside her and tucked back her hair, then he gently caressed her back. Raffaella closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of his hand; therefore, she didn’t see Jerry bending down and jumped when she felt his lips brushing the skin of her shoulder.

“Oh...” she breathed, as a hot shiver shot through her. Encouraged, Jerry slid his hand lower, his lips in tow along her spine. When he reached the mound of her lace-hugged derrière, he caressed it and immediately afterwards, he nibbled at it. Raffaella sighed as her eyes cracked open, then widened: Jerry’s virile sceptre was rising right before her face. Her hands began itching for the desire to touch it. She turned on her side and surrounded it with her fingers. Jerry jumped and uttered a groan as she caressed him skilfully.

“That’s not fair...” he protested faintly.

“You want me to stop?” she teased him, still touching him intimately.

“Ah! No, no”, the archer panted, closing his eyes. Galvanised by his reaction, Raffaella rose a little more and pusher him on his back, then she bent down on him and brushed his virility with her tongue.

“Gosh Raffi”, the wheezed. “You’re driving me mad...”

Undeterred, she continued inflicting him her delicious torture and Jerry felt his arousal getting stronger and stronger, until he thought he was on the verge of losing control.

“St... stop”, he implored her. “Raffi, please, I need you...”

His plea made her stop and withdraw. Looking into his eyes, she lay on her back and held out her arms to him. Jerry lay down next to her and kissed her with a passion that left her breathless. Then, he left her lips and placed a chain of tiny, wet kisses on her neck, chest, and breasts, where he lingered to pay homage to the hard buds that crowned them, making her moan amorously, her hands in his hair. He went on, descending on her quivering abdomen, and began to lower her French knickers along her hips, all the way kissing her progressively exposed skin. He halted right above the dark cloud adorning her womanliness, where he stayed as he freed her from the garment. Then, he slipped one hand between her knees, which she promptly parted, and climbed along her thigh, until he touched her feminine flower.

Feeling his fingers brushing her most sensitive spot, Raffaella cried out. “Jerry! Oh...!”

“My Raffaella...” he murmured. Pleased, he felt on his fingers her intense arousal and desired to taste it, therefore, he lowered his head between her legs. Raffaella’s breath caught in her throat and, feeling his tongue brushing the most secret fold of her body, she uttered a groan that sounded like a meow.

Delighted by her taste and incited by her response, Jerry savoured her avidly, deeply, as she writhed in an increasingly convulsive way, thrashing her head, her moans becoming gradually louder.

Satisfied at last, Jerry removed his mouth from her and rose over her. Raffaella opened her eyes, which she had closed overwhelmed by pleasure, and wrapped him in her arms and legs as he set himself on top of her.

“Please… I want you now…” she implored him.

“I’m here, honey”, he whispered. He placed his lips on hers and his tongue made its way into her mouth in a sensual kiss, and at the same time, he shoved his virility slowly into her body. With a sight of both pleasure and joy, Raffaella welcomed him, happy about the sweet double invasion.

Jerry began moving leisurely and felt her raising her pelvis to meet his every thrust, increasing the mutual pleasure. Withdrawing from her lips, he moaned:

“Oh Raffi… you’re wonderful… perfect…”

Raffaella felt intoxicated, like every time her husband spoke to her passionate and at the same time romantic words; and this happened constantly, whenever they made love. She addressed him a smile so tender, that his throat closed out of emotion. 

“Gosh, how much I love you…” he murmured on her lips, before kissing her once more.

“And I love you as much”, Raffaella murmured as soon as she could speak again.

A sudden urge to take her to ecstasy, to feel her trembling and screaming in pleasure caught him. Propping on his arms, Jerry changed angle and depth and began to move quicker, broader. He spied Raffaella’s face and, when he saw her lips forming an ‘o’ showing her delight, he kept both rhythm and position. Her love laments multiplied and became louder and louder. Seeing her arching her back and closing her eyes, Jerry smiled, feeling contented and thrilled. Then, he felt her depths shuddering and jerking as her orgasm shook them. He forced himself to resist a few moments more, to prolong her pleasure before letting himself go, but hearing her screaming his name was his undoing and completion overwhelmed him, tearing a cry from his throat.

Raffaella vibrated in both body and soul, holding on to Jerry’s shoulders, her head thrown backwards. Her love scream trailed off, changing to moans as the spasms of her climax still shook her depths. When they finally subsided, she began breathing again, realising only now that she had held her breath.

Jerry lay down again on top of her and peppered her face with tender kisses, as he always did after their lovemaking. Raffaella caught his head in her hands to look into his eyes; Jerry drowned in those sweet chocolate irises full of adoration. Feeling more in love than ever, he bent his neck and kissed her fervently, and she reciprocated with equal fervour.

OOO

It was past two o’clock when they went downstairs and headed for the kitchen, feeling quite hungry. For this room, Raffaella had tried to stay as much as possible faithful to the original style, incorporating the country chic in Tuscan version with modern, highly functional and low power appliances, in an environmental-friendly perspective that had been at the core of the whole refurbishment.

Salvo had set the table in the dining room, but out of convenience, they chose to have lunch in the kitchen. Therefore, as Raffaella turned on the stove to heat the water for the pasta, Jerry transferred dishes, glasses and cutlery, then he took a bottle of Elba rosé from the wine fridge and uncorked it. He poured the wine in two glasses and brought one to his wife, who was checking on the sauce.

“Aperitif”, he said, handing her the glass. Raffaella thanked him with a smile and they toasted.

“What did Marcella cook, today?” Jerry enquired.

“Home-made fettuccine with tomato-and-olive sauce.”

“Mmmm, that’s one of my favourites!” the American cried, pleased.

“I know, that’s why I asked Marcella for it”, Raffaella smiled.

Jerry smirked. “Ha, you know perfectly that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach… No, wait, how is it in Italian? _To win a man you need to take him by his throat_ …”

“Precisely, bravo”, Raffaella praised him. Jerry was a natural with languages and had even a good accent, differently from most Anglophones, especially Americans.

Raffaella drained the pasta and dressed it, placing it it into the plates that then Jerry took to the table. After taking their seats, Raffaella poured more wine and raised her glass.

“I’m happy you’re at home, _amò_ ”, she said, the last word in Roman dialect, short for _amore_. (*) She enjoyed inserting something of her heritage tongue, mainly for amusement, but also to express particular emphasis, like now; or to heavily insult someone who had annoyed her, which wasn’t very easy because she usually was a very calm person. Except when someone made her lose her temper, that is.

“And I’m happy to be at home, _amò_ ”, Jerry replied along the lines, clinking his glass with hers.

They sipped at their wine, then began eating with appetite. When they finished, Raffaella prepared coffee with the espresso machine, which grinded it fresh and brewed it as delicious as any bar – or even better, as Nives stated. Coming from her, who wasn’t a very big coffee-fan, it was significant.

After having their coffee, they put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

“What about relaxing at the pool?” Jerry suggested. “Later we can take a refreshing swim…”

“Excellent idea”, she approved with enthusiasm.

They therefore returned to their bedroom to change into their swimwear, and then came back downstairs.

The pool – which Jerry, seeing it the first time, had described as spectacular – was of irregular shape and had a round Jacuzzi attached at it in one corner. On one side there was a small staircase to gradually step into the water, and on the other side, a rise formed a miniature waterfall, which wasn’t just scenographic, but also provided the constant oxygenation of the water, keeping it cleaner. Large slip-resistant tiles of a light grey colour surrounded the pool, except where the waterfall was located. Trees and shrubs framed the place. On the two sides of the pool stood two large canopied sunbeds with shielding curtains, both with small side-tables to place down drinks, books and so on. Jerry called it their _private grand hotel_ , and he was right.

They laid their beach towels on one of the sunbeds and then lay down, drawing the curtains to shield them from the burning sun.

They chatted, talking about what they had done or what had happened to them in the weeks they had been apart. Jerry told her several anecdotes about his siblings and their spouses that had Raffaella laughing hard. 

Two hours after their lunch, they decided to take a swim. They were hot, though they had simply rested on the bed, but the thermometer had said almost 40° C as the highpoint of the day. They got into the water carefully, but it felt colder than it actually was only because of the thermal contrast, and soon after, as they had got used to it, they were splashing about cheerfully. They swam a bit up and down the length, then, as magnets unable to stay apart, they drew near again. Jerry lifted Raffaella in his arms and carried her to the waterfall.

“Our house is striking”, he whispered, cradling her. “But it would be striking even if it was a hovel… because we’re be together.”

“You’re right”, she agreed, lacing her arms around his neck. Jerry let her slip back on her feet and grasped her waist, pulling her to him; Raffaella reciprocated him by pressing her whole body against his and placing kisses on his chest. He sighed.

“ _Piccola_ … (**) do you know what you do to me?” he asked softly. She raised her head to look at him.

“The same you do to me”, she answered equally softly. His expression turned almost hungry, and in his eyes took on what Raffaella had found no better way to describe as a _knickers-tearing gaze_ , because it always made her want to jump him.

She had no need to beg him: soon enough, her bikini and his bathing trunks were floating about. Standing waist-deep in the water, next to the waterfall, they made love with the wonderful mix of unbridled passion and immense tenderness what only two people who are really in love can show to one another.

Later, they relaxed again on the sunbed. At seven o’clock, as the sun was slowly sinking towards the western horizon, they returned to their room and had a quick shower to clean away sunscreen and chlorine, then they dressed for dinner and went downstairs. On the coffee table next to the couch in the sitting room, they found a tray with two large goblet-like glasses.

“Salvo and his aperitifs”, Jerry commented. “I missed them!”

Marcella’s twenty-seven-year old son was an accomplished barman and he loved blending cocktails. Raffaella had exhorted him several times to participate in contests with a drink of his making, but Salvo was a perfectionist and, until he wouldn’t create something that satisfied him completely, he wouldn’t do it.

“I’ll go tell them we’re ready for dinner”, Raffaella said. “Put some music on, will you?”

Jerry cast a glance to the white piano standing out in the middle of the expansive sitting room, separated from the dining room by a movable wall that they usually removed for parties or for the gourmet events. He often played piano for their guests, but even more often, he did it for his wife, dedicating her love songs. Therefore, instead of turning on the stereo, he sat at the piano and lifted the lid covering the keyboard.

Meanwhile, Raffaella was heading for the kitchen. There, she found Marcella and Salvo busy with preparations for dinner.

“Good evening, madam”, the cook’s son greeted her. “I’ve noticed that today you had your lunch in the kitchen. Was the dining room wrong?” he asked in a worried tone.

“Not at all”, Raffaella assured him. “But as we were alone, it was simply more practical eating here. Anyway, Jerry complimented on the pasta and the sauce”, she added for Marcella.

“I’m happy about that”, the older woman nodded, busy with the food processor. “Tonight, because it’s so hot, I thought of a cold plate: _vitello tonnato_ (***) with corn salad and cherry tomatoes. Then comes a honeymelon salad.”

“Excellent”, Raffaella smiled, happy with the menu – but then, she had never reasons to complain about Marcella’s skills as a cook, she cooked light and tasteful dishes, exactly how she liked them best. “Salvo, would you serve the aperitif?”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Low alcohol content, please: with this heat, alcohol is a killer!”

“You’re right! What about apple juice with just a shot of white wine?”

“Perfect!”

When she went back to the sitting room, a melodic plonking welcomed Raffaella and she smiled: it was impossible to keep Jerry away from his piano, as much as from his bow. Then her smile turned thrilled as Jerry changed the melody and started singing _Heaven_ by Brian Adams, looking into her eyes. The lyrics of the love song by the most sentimental of the rockers, sung by the man she loved, had a lump forming in her throat. _We’re in heaven_ , said the refrain; and for her Elba, Altariva, her husband were _truly_ heaven.

Hearing the music, Salvo waited to enter, because he didn’t want to intrude into what he knew was a special moment for the two spouses. A romantic soul, Salvo hoped that, one day, he would live a love story like Raffaella Romani and Jerry Runner.

When the song ended, he waited a minute more, and then he made his entry in the sitting room carrying a tray with a small glass carafe and a few appetisers.

“Good evening and welcome back, Mr Runner”, he greeted his employer in a strongly accented, but excellent English. “Here we go with the aperitif.”

“Thank you, Salvo”, said Raffaella as the young man placed the tray on the coffee table. “What did you prepare with it?”

“Considering this evening’s menu, I thought about _vol-au-vents_ , two with tuna sauce and two with Olivier salad.”

“Excellent choice”, Raffaella approved. Salvo nodded, pleased, and then poured the light green drink into the glasses with a couple of icicles each to keep it chilled. Finally, he took his leave.

Jerry and Raffaella toasted and had a sip.

“Good!” the American man cried. “Salvo is truly matchless with cocktails, though simple as this one.”

Raffaella nodded, then they ate the _vol-au-vents_.

“I’ll have to start again to gym off the food”, Jerry grinned. Raffaella laughed for what was a recurrent joke: actually, the calories content was always low, because Marcella cooked in a very appetising, but also dietetic way. Otherwise, they would both turn quickly into big fat barrels.

Soon enough, Salvo came to announce that dinner was ready to be served. At this point, Raffaella and Jerry exited on the large terrace overlooking the sea, where the table had been set, and took their seats. The waiter had created a suggestive atmosphere, using candles and lanterns instead of electricity to light the gazebo, which had been built next to the house, sheltered from the sea winds that sometimes blew very hard, in case of bad weather.

They had the _vitello tonnato_ and the salad, drinking an Ansonica Reserve doc, of course produced by the Altariva Estate, a dry wine with a low level of acidity that went well both with the tuna in the sauce and the white meat of the veal.

“Remind me what time are Nives and Richard due to arrive, tomorrow?” asked Jerry.

“Late in the evening”, Raffaella answered. “Nives booked the last ferry, at 22.00, so they won’t need to race. Of course, should they arrive earlier in Piombino, they’ll take the previous fare. Nives told me that tomorrow they’ll have lunch with her godson and goddaughter and their families.”

“While today Richard has been introduced to Nives’ father, am I right?” Raffaella nodded to confirm. “I can well imagine how anxious he was… I remember how _I_ was when you introduced me to your parents!”

Raffaella smiled. “Well, I was too, when you took me to meet your mother and the whole tribe of your siblings with their spouses and children… Anyway, Richard has no reason to be anxious: Luigi is a very sweet man, even if he’d defend Nives like a Cerberus, should someone try to hurt her; and Nives says that Richard is an adorable man. I’m absolutely sure that they liked each other very much.”

Jerry nodded.

“I’m looking forward to meet Richard”, he then said. “Do you know that he had a small but significant role in the movie _Captain America The First Avenger_?”

Jerry had always been a big fan of the Avengers; predictably, his favourite was Clint Barton alias Hawkeye, the infallible archer.

“Of course I know, we watched that movie at least three times”, Raffaella reminded him, laughing.

“Well, we watched all three movies of The Hobbit five times”, Jerry retorted, laughing in turn. “But is it true that Richard is a washout with a bow?”

“He said that himself. That’s why I suggested to Nives that you could teach him something.”

“Well, surely they had professional masters-at-arms on set. I don’t see what I could do more…”

“Perhaps it’s just about the teaching method”, hypothesized Raffaella. Jerry pondered for a minute.

“Maybe”, he nodded. “Let’s see… If he’s going to say he’s interested, that is.” 

As they finished the veal, Salvo cleared the empty dishes and came back with the fruit salad, chilled but not too cold. After that, they had coffee, and then Jerry headed for the kitchen to say hallo to Marcella and thank her for the thought about the pasta at lunch. She was loading the dishwasher, but she stopped as soon as she caught sight of her employer and dried her hands.

“Welcome back home, Mr Jerry”, she said in Italian because, unlike her son, she didn’t speak a word of English, though she had studied it at the hotel school.

“Thanks, Marcella”, Jerry said in her tongue, smiling at her with genuine affection: though she was around fifteen years younger than Vanessa, Marcella was a little like a second mother to him. “And thanks for the today’s fettuccine, too. They were excellent.”

“You’re welcome, Mr Jerry, it’s always my pleasure”, Marcella declared, pleased.

Jerry thanked her again, then he returned to Raffaella. It was almost ten o’clock and the American man was rather sleepy because of the jet lag, which he hadn’t completely overcome, despite sleeping on the plane. Therefore, they retired for the night; they exchanged a few kisses and lovingly caresses, then they prepared to sleep. Jerry fell asleep almost at once, but Raffaella stayed awake a little longer, listening to her man’s light breath, as he lay next to her with his arms around her. She felt happy: they were together again.

(*) love

(**) baby

(***) veal slices with tuna sauce


	4. Chapter IV: Sunday, August 9th, 2015

**Chapter IV: Sunday, August 9 th, 2015**

The following morning, Nives awoke in Richard’s arms, a little stiff because of the position. She stretched trying to be very quiet as not to wake up her man, then she rose and headed for the bathroom. Here she freshened up, thinking amused that she would anyway soon burst up in flames again: when they were together, she and Richard made love almost every night and every morning, and they skipped only very rarely. So far, they had been lucky, because she had never had her period during their encounters; it was inevitable that, sooner or later, they would run into that inconvenience, but this time they would skip it again, as she had just had it.

She returned to her room; Richard had asked her to wake him up if she preceded him, because he didn’t want to lose even one single moment with her, so she slowly and quietly raised the shutters. The growing light flooded him as he lay on his back, still asleep, his face turned towards the centre of the bed, where she had been just minutes before.

Perceiving the change in light, Richard emerged from sleep and slowly cracked his eyes open. He blinked a couple of times, then he turned his gaze around and, singling out Nives next to the window, he addressed her a smile, as his eyes devoured her lovely naked shape. Under his burning gaze, Nives felt breathless, her blood boiling in her veins.

“ _Buongiorno, amore mio_ ” (*), she said softly in Italian, returning his smile.

“With you, it’s always a _glorious_ day”, he replied, stretching out one arm toward her. Nives finished rolling up the shutters and went back to bed, where she lay next to Richard. He took her into his arms at once to kiss her.

They needed over one hour before raising and have breakfast, again with the delicious croissants of Nives’ pastry chef friend, this time stuffed with apricot jam, coming with a foamy _cappuccino_.

“This morning I’ll take you to a special place”, Nives announced as they ate. “Beautiful in an aesthetic way but also in a spiritual way. And fresher than here, too”, she added: the African heat wasn’t going to loosen its grip anytime soon.

“Gladly”, Richard nodded. “At what time do your friends expect us?”

Today they were awaited for lunch at Francesca and Livio’s, the parents of Nives’ six-years-old goddaughter, where they would meet up also with her godson’s family.

“Half past noon”, she answered. “They live just ten minutes away.”

“I’m looking forward to meet them all”, the actor affirmed, and it was true: he was the godfather of his nephew Abe and hadn’t had the pleasure to repeat the experience, while Nives had a boy and a girl, Michele and Marina.

“And they’re looking forward to meet you”, Nives smiled. “The most excited of all is Silvano, Michele’s elder brother, because Thorin is his favourite hero and he cannot believe he’s going to meet his performer.”

“I’m honoured”, Richard stated, feeling thrilled. “Then we’re going to leave for Elba directly from your friends’ home?”

“Yeah, precisely. We’ll load our luggage in the car now, so we won’t need to come back here again.”

She had packed her suitcase – a large pink trolley she had purchased especially for the long stay in Hawaii three years earlier – on Thursday already and now she had to squeeze in only her beauty case with her cosmetics. Richard’s trolley was big, too, but Nives’ blue Opel Corsa, though a small car, had a very large trunk, once the backrest of the rear seat was down.

“I’d like to get something to your friends”, Richard declared.

“I’m going to bring them an ice-cream cake”, Nives said with a smile. “When we’re back from our little trip, we’ll go to Franco to take it. You can buy it, if you like to.”

“Yep, I’d love to.” 

As they were finishing breakfast, Richard asked her a question that had been in his mind for several minutes:

“Will you keep watching _Hannibal_?”

Nives had told him she had watched the second episode where he appeared, which had been aired the previous week, and had again expressed her admiration for his performance, but the night before they had been busy with _other things_ than watching telly.

“Of course I will”, she answered in a reassuring tone, having heard his hesitant tone. “The new episode will surely be already available on streaming, but today I won’t be able to watch it. I’ll do that in the next days… and we could watch it together.”

Richard lit up: right, she couldn’t watch the series live, as it aired in the USA, and therefore she always caught up on streaming.

“Okay”, he accepted, then he wrinkled his brow. “Hum, in this episode there’s the love scene between Francis and Reba… are you sure you want to watch it with me?”

Nives hadn’t thought about that.

“Oh…” she muttered, musingly, but it was only for a minute and then she chuckled. “Of course! I’ll watch you in bed with another woman _as a fake_ , but afterwards you’ll be in bed with me _for real_ … and then you’ll _owe_ me”, she concluded in an impish tone. Richard was relieved, then he smirked impishly in turn.

“I can assure you it will be a _great_ pleasure”, he said, then he sobered and grasped her hand. “I know that watching this series is an effort for you, because of the genre, and that you do it for my sake only. For this reason, I love you more than ever, _mia dolce ragazza italiana_ ”, (**) he concluded, kissing her fingers. Nives smiled at him amorously.

“ _E io amo te, mio bel ragazzo britannico_ ”, (***) she answered.

OOO

Half an hour later, they had loaded their luggage in the car and had left. After a few minutes, Nives pointed her finger ahead.

“That’s Mount Summano, a sacred place since ancient times”, she said. “Like all the mountains with two peaks, it was dedicated to the Mother Goddess. Actually, they found archaeological relics of figurines representing Her. Besides, it is no coincidence that the Paleochristians would dedicate it to the Mother of God, as they did almost everywhere they found places of worship dedicated to the Great Mother.”

“Very interesting!” declared Richard. “You’re a worshipper of the Mother Goddess, aren’t you?”

Nives tensed: this was the first time they spoke about her religiosity, which around ten years earlier she had changed from her native Christianity to a spirituality that suited her more, dedicated to a female figure. She knew he was a Christian believer, though non-practicing, and she had been reluctant to bring it up, fearing to cause uneasiness or, even worse, refusal; but he had guessed correctly and she didn’t want to lie to him.

“Yes, I am”, she admitted, waiting for his reaction. Richard just nodded.

“I guessed it from some things you said. In England, Neopaganism is an officially recognised religion, do you know that?”

She was astonished: of course she knew, but she hadn’t expected Richard to know, or that he would speak about it with such ease. She had learnt the hard way that religion, as much as politics, is a very thorny topic, for some people.

“The idea I follow this religion doesn’t… bother you?” she enquired.

He cast her a sincerely surprised glance. “No, why?”

Nives stretched her lips in a bitter smile.

“Unfortunately, often people are scandalised or even gives you a hard time, if you declare openly such a thing”, she explained. “Though our constitution protects the freedom of worship, it doesn’t look like that in real life and in the common mentality.”

Richard brushed her shoulder in a reassuring caress.

“You should know that I have no _common mentality_ ”, he observed in a slightly reproachful tone. Nives sighed, sorry for having doubted him.

“You’re right”, she answered, ashamed. “As you know, generally I don’t care about what opinion other people might have of me, but I make an exception for people I love… you, my father, your parents…”

“If those people love you as much as you love them, their opinion will anyway be always positive”, Richard affirmed in a confident tone.

“Yeah, they should”, she nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s not always this way.”

He opened his mouth to protest vibrantly, but then he closed it again, realising that Nives was right: between the two of them, things were exactly like that, but regrettably, it was not always the case.

“As far as I am concerned, you could be an atheist, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Wiccan or whatever, and I wouldn’t care”, he said then. “All I care about is that you’re an honest, loyal and good person. Beautiful inside and outside”, he declared firmly. “And above all, I care that you love me, and about that, I have no doubts whatsoever”, he concluded in a softer tone.

Nives turned into a rather steep road and pulled over to one side, then she turned to look at Richard.

“And never doubt it”, she said in a very low voice, thick with emotion. He took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“I won’t”, he said. “And you never doubt that I love _you_ , Nives.”

A lump formed in her throat.

“This, I cannot promise you”, she whispered, shying away from his lovingly inquisitive gaze. “Maybe one day, but not now, not yet…”

“I know”, Richard whispered back. “That’s why I won’t get tired of repeating you that I love you.”

He pulled her to him and tenderly kissed her lips. Nives’ heart swelled because of emotion and the immense love she felt for him.

When the moving moment was over, they resumed their trip; after about ten minutes, Nives turned into a small, winding road climbing steeply. They stopped near a farm and got off the car, taking a trail that led into the woods. They walked for about fifteen minutes, then they reached an oval-shaped glade, located on one side of the track, entirely surrounded by immense, white-barked beeches. A barely visible path headed for two trees looking like a gateway, and Nives made Richard pass between them, as if entering a green cathedral. Gazing around, the actor felt breathless.

“It’s absolutely awe-inspiring”, he said in a very low voice, as if fearing to disturb the local spirits.

“It is indeed”, Nives confirmed, moving forward into the sunlit glade. “Watch your steps, the ground is very uneven.”

Richard followed her until they came in the middle of the oval space.

“Do you know what tree-hugging is?” she asked. Richard turned to look at her with an amused light in his cerulean eyes.

“Yes I do”, he answered. “In simple terms, it consists in hugging a tree to receive psycho-physical benefits.”

Nives laughed, contended.

“Alright, you have definitely not a _common mentality_!” she cried, then pointed to a beech on the opposite end of the clearing, which grew into two independent trunks. “That’s my tree…”

They approached it and Richard brushed its smooth bark, raising his gaze up to the canopy, far above their heads.

“It’s beautiful”, he affirmed. “Hello, my friend, I’m the one who loves so much your human friend Nives…”

Nives felt a lump in her throat. Speechless, she went to Richard and hugged him, resting her head on his chest. He closed his arms around her and held her tight, kissing her hair. Nives imagined herself with him in this same glade, at Beltane, the feast of love, making love during that magic night, symbolising the joining of the god and the goddess, of sky and earth… She doubted she would ever had the nerve to do it: the fear of being caught would prevent her, though it was highly unlikely for someone roaming the woods by night… but it would be _glorious_ doing it. And not only at Beltane…

They walked all around the glade, observing and touching this or that tree.

“This is truly a magic place”, Richard said at last and Nives smiled at him, happy he had liked it. Then she glanced at her mobile.

“Time to go back”, she said. “Or we’re going to be late.”

“That’s something I hate”, Richard declared and Nives nodded, agreeing. “But we have a minute, don’t we?”

“Well, yes…” she answered, then she trailed off because he pulled her into his arms and placed his mouth on hers in a deep and tender kiss.

“Now we can go”, he said at the end, smirking. “Though I’d love to stay here, you and I alone… but we’d need a rug for what I have in mind…”

Nives gasped: that was the same fantasy she had had just moments earlier.

“I’d love that, too, but I wouldn’t have the nerve to do it… I’d be too afraid to get caught”, she confessed, pulling an unhappy face. “But I’d like truly, truly very much to make love with you in the middle of nature”, she concluded with a sigh.

“Never say never”, Richard murmured as they started to walk back to the car.

They went down again to the lowland and headed for Franco’s ice-cream parlour to fetch the cake, and then for the house of Nives’ friends. They arrived punctually, discovering that the other friends had anyway preceded them as Nives caught sight of their car, parked in front of the block where Livio and Francesca lived.

They rang the doorbell and the main entrance opened at once, so they went upstairs to the first floor.

“We’re here!” Nives announced aloud, pushing the door that had been left ajar for them.

“Come in, come in!” Livio cried, meeting them with a beam. He was Milanese from his mother’s side and Sicilian from his father’s; with raven-black hair and an olive complexion that made him look as if perennially tanned, he was a handsome man with a sweet but solid character. With his wife, he had bravely faced the arrival of a preemie baby girl – just twenty-six weeks pregnancy – with all the problems that it had ensued. On top, Francesca had been vilely sacked after her maternity leave and, with a little girl in these conditions at first and later because of the general economic crisis, she had never been able to find another job, therefore they had hard financial troubles. From time to time, Nives helped them with small sums, so they could make it through the month. Francesca recommended her to keep count because they wanted to give her back every cent as soon as they could, but Nives didn’t care much, considering them as presents for her darling goddaughter. Marina, though a very premature child, had miraculously made through all the serious problems affecting her peers. The only thing she retained was the perennial attachment to her mother, both physical and psychological, which the paediatrician and the neuropsychiatrist had advised not to sever until the child alone would decide it. This would happen on her own time and not on any adult’s guessed time, including doctors. Marina was a true living miracle and she was adorable, and actually, everyone adored her, from her parents, to her grandparents, uncles and aunts, and cousins – all older than her – on to the health carers of all levels dealing with her, including of course her godmother.

Livio affectionately hugged Nives – they loved each other like siblings – then he looked up at Richard, who was around twenty centimetres taller.

“Hi, I’m Livio”, he introduced himself in English, very simply. Richard shook hands with him, thinking at once that the other man was likeable.

“Richard, nice to meet you”, he answered.

Francesca arrived; she was a slightly overweight woman with short brown hair and large dark eyes. She hugged Nives with obvious affection. 

“Welcome”, she said, beaming at Richard. “Hello, I’m Francesca.”

“Richard, I’m honoured to meet you”, he answered, shaking hands with her too, then he handed her the box with the cake. “Better you place this in the freezer”, he suggested.

“Of course!” Francesca agreed, taking the box and putting it away.

It was Fulvia’s turn to approach the British actor; she was a few years younger than Francesca, taller but equally rotund. Her husband joined her.

“Hello, I’m Fulvia”, she greeted Richard. “And this is my husband, Massimo.”

“Max”, the latter said, smiling. He was tall and strong built, and as he was of mixed origins like Livio – mother from Padua and father from Naples – he too was dark-haired and dark-eyed.

The two men shook hands; from behind Fulvia peeped out Silvano and Michele, the first tall and skinny, the latter short and chubby, both fair-haired and light-eyed like their mother.

“Boys, come here”, Fulvia ordered. “Don’t be shy, he’s not going to eat you!”

They approached the actor. At thirteen-and-a-half, Silvano was a mixture of cheekiness and insecurity like all the teens, while the almost ten-years-old Michele was slightly timid, but he had no problems to talk to anyone.

“Richard, this are my sons, Silvano and Michele”, Fulvia said with rightful motherly proudness. “Boys, this is Richard Armitage, meaning Thorin Oakenshield”, she completed the introducing formalities in Italian, as the lads didn’t speak English fluently.

Silvano stared at the actor as if dumbstruck, while Michele burst into laughter.

“How can you be a dwarf, if you’re so tall?” he blurted out.

Nives chuckled and translated quickly, so Richard too laughed. He had heard that pun so many times that he was tired of it, but hearing it from a young boy in such a fresh and spontaneous way was something entirely different.

“Film magic”, he explained in his meagre Italian.

“Ah, right!” Michele cried, nodding very gravely.

Silvano instead was still struggling to utter a single word.

“I… I am very glad to meet you, Mr Thorin… hum I mean Armitage”, he stuttered, striving to say it in his best English. He had carefully prepared the sentence, but now he blushed because of the mistake on the name. Richard pulled him out of the mess by laughing as it were a witticism.

“Just Richard, please”, he invited him then, to the boy’s greatest thrill.

Nives looked around. “Where’s Marina?”

The child had sought refuge behind her mother and was clinging to her skirt, staring at Richard with her large dark eyes. The actor crouched, looking at her with a very sweet smile: Nives had told him about her goddaughter’s problems and now that he was seeing her, he felt his heart flying out to her.

“Ciao”, he said in Italian. “I’m Riccardo. And what’s your name?”

She nibbled at one nail – she always did, when she was in awe – then without looking at him, she mumbled:

“Marina…”

Richard didn’t try to force her to shake hands with him or to come nearer, and he just said:

“Nice to meet you, Marina.”

His low and kind voice, as much as his sweet smile, won the girl’s heart. She stuck out her head a little more and glanced at him. “Are you Aunt Nives’ fiancé?”

“I am”, Richard confirmed, beaming.

“You speak strangely”, she remarked.

“Because I’m not Italian”, he explained patiently.

“Oh, okay”, Marina said in an understanding tone.

Richard stood up again, still smiling, and placed one arm around Nives’ shoulders.

“Kiss!” Marina cried suddenly, laughing. Then, amazed at herself for her audacity, she planted her face into her mother’s leg, her face as red as a tomato.

“Marina, what are you saying?!” Francesca exclaimed, torn between embarrassment and amusement, brushing her long dark curls.

“Ha, not a problem at all”, Richard chuckled. “Any excuse for kissing Nives.”

He bent down and kissed her lightly. Marina laughed and clapped her hands enthusiastically. 

“Well, what about having our aperitif?” Francesca invited them all at this point. She adored making appetisers and today she had her usual fun with canapés, sandwiches and tiny pizzas, as well as stuffed olives and a quiche with ricotta cheese and spinach. Livio prepared the aperitif with chilled prosecco and _gingerino_ (****), just the soft drink for Silvano, while Michele and Marina declined. Then, everybody helped themselves with the appetisers.

“What did you cook today?” Nives enquired, looking at Francesca, who was an excellent cook.

“Because of the terrible heat, I thought about a cold plate: pasta salad”, her friend answered. “Two different types: with vegetables and with fish. Everyone can dress it to their taste: mayonnaise, olive oil, or soya sauce.”

The latter was Nives’ habit, using it to dress her vegetable salad as well as pasta or rice salads. It was tasteful, healthy and, above all, it had no calories, and this suited her perfectly because she had to watch her weight constantly, as she was prone to fatten up easily. Besides, the savoury taste of the soya sauce saved her to add salt, and this was good for water retention.

“Then there are cheeses and salad galore”, Francesca added. “And to close the meal, your ice-cream cake of course, with _spumante_.”

She spoke in Italian, as her English was too poor, so Nives translated for Richard, with the help of Fulvia and Massimo who instead spoke fluently the language of Albion.

“Sounds very appetising”, Richard commented. “I always loved Italian cuisine”, he went on. “But since I tried it in Italy, both at a restaurant or with Nives cooking it, I don’t go anymore to Italian restaurants abroad: it’s not the same.”

“It isn’t, indeed”, confirmed Massimo, who was a good eater as his tonnage suggested. “They always adjust to the local tastes and it ends up changing it from canon, so to speak.”

The children nibbled at a few canapés, especially Michele who was in full growth phase and was as round as a Hobbit.

Soon they were taking their seats at the table; Michele, as usual, insisted on sitting next to his godmother, whom he adored – and she reciprocated him completely – and he asked for her mobile. She gave it to him at once and he began fiddling with it. Seeing Richard staring perplexed at the scene, Nives explained. “You must know that Micky is a true techie genius: give him any device, smartphone or tablet, and he updates and optimises it, and makes you discover applications you didn’t even know you had…”

“Really? I’ll give him my iPhone, if he likes!”

Nives translated for Michele, who nodded. “Sure! I’ll need a little more time though, because I don’t know the iOS operating system as well as I know Android, but I can do it.”

“Ha, now that’s all Greek for me”, Nives grinned, then she translated, including her comment. Richard laughed aloud and gave his iPhone 6 to Michele.

“Let’s eat before”, Fulvia admonished him and the lad, obediently, gave up the two mobile phones for the moment.

Richard had never tried pasta salad and loved it instantly, especially the variation with shrimp, octopus, cuttlefish and baby squid. To translate correctly all of the ingredients, even Nives had to resort to the vocabulary, and meanwhile, Richard learned a few new Italian words.

As for the wine – on Nives’ suggestion – Massimo and Fulvia had brought a Prosecco _spumante_ , though Livio chose a light beer as he didn’t love wine, while Francesca, who couldn’t much hold her wine, took only a sip. For the children, there were soft drinks and water; Silvano asked and was allowed to have a drop of Prosecco, but he declared he didn’t like it and Nives glared playfully at Massimo.

“You have started to make him taste wine too late!” she reproached him grinning. “I was only eight or nine years old when my parents started to pour a drop or two of wine in my water and therefore I got used to it little by little…”

“That’s why you hold your liquor like a man”, Massimo chuckled. “I’ve never seen her drunk”, he then declared, addressing Richard. “Though she drinks as much as I do.”

“Well, as for that, I’ve never seen _you_ drunk”, Nives promptly replied to her old pal.

“No, I always stop in time”, he confirmed.

“Like I do”, she nodded.

“Once I got steaming drunk with whisky”, Richard confessed. “I was twenty and then, I was so sick with the hangover, I swore it would never happen again.”

“That’s precisely why I always refused to get drunk”, Nives stated firmly. “Why making oneself sick, afterwards? It makes no sense!”

“You’re right”, Massimo confirmed. “You like whisky?” he then asked Richard, interested. “Do you have a favourite one?”

“Yep, though in this case I betray the United Kingdom a little, because my favourite is Irish…”

“Really?” Nives was surprised. “I, too, usually prefer Irish whiskeys!”

“Oh come on!” Richard smiled, glad to discover one more thing they had in common. “I love the Jameson”, he added.

“I can’t believe it!” Nives laughed. “That was my choice before I discovered the Blackbush!”

“Never tried that”, the actor admitted.

“If I knew, I would’ve made you taste it at home. Well, next time…”

“I count on it! And you, Max? Which is your favourite?”

“I discovered whisky thanks Nives”, Massimo told him. “When, after being on a trip to Scotland, she gave me a bottle of Oban for my birthday. Since then, I’ve never let it go”, he concluded laughing.

“Excellent choice”, Richard approved. “It’s one of the finest Scotch whisky.”

They chatted lively throughout the meal. Livio and Francesca had some difficulties because of their lesser knowledge of the English tongue, but Nives, Fulvia and Massimo took turns to translate, when necessary. Silvano, too, tried his best with the meagre vocabulary he possessed, while Michele and Marina participated only occasionally into the adults’ conversation and only in Italian.

As she began clearing the table, Francesca addressed Richard.

“Please excuse my bad English”, she said apologetically.

“And you, please excuse my bad Italian”, he replied, with the exquisite courtesy that was one of the characteristics that Nives loved more in him and that gained him a very friendly beam from Francesca.

As usual, Nives helped her old friend – as she used to do at Fulvia’s too, when she was her guest – and soon enough, they had set the table with saucers for the cake and glass flutes for the sweet _spumante_ Fiordarancio, again a suggestion of Nives to Massimo and Fulvia.

“I’ll take care of cutting the cake”, Richard offered, signalling Francesca to give him the knife.

“I’ll take care of the bottle”, Massimo declared as not to be outdone.

“Don’t make a mess, I beg you” Nives giggled. Massimo puffed, feigning exasperation.

“You will never forget that, won’t you?” he muttered.

Fulvia and Nives burst into laughter, and to the ones looking at them in confusion, Fulvia explained. “Years ago, we organised an evening in a pizzeria with Star Trek fans of the Vicenza province. Max ordered a Weizen beer, but in his talking zeal, he gesticulated so hard that he knocked it over and spilled the whole content on the table. Since then, we always make fun of him whenever he takes care of beverages…”

“Ouch, the poor man!” Livio exclaimed, laughing. Meanwhile, Massimo had safely uncorked the Fiordarancio bottle and now began pouring the _spumante_ into the glasses.

“See?” he said triumphantly. “Nothing happened…”

They all laughed again.

In the meantime, Richard had finished cutting the ice-cream cake; somehow, he had managed to make exactly nine slices, as many as the table companions were.

“Anyway, Max will have to eat Michele’s piece too”, Nives prophesied. “My godson does not love sweets”, she then explained to Richard.

“Really?” he was shocked and stared at Michele. “You’re the first child ever whom I meet, who does not love sweets… My nephew Abe adores them, especially chocolate ice-cream, like me…”

After Nives’ translation, Michele lighted up. “Yep! I love ice-cream! Liquorice and yogurt!”

After handing out the cake, Livio suggested a toast. “To this wonderful group of friends!”

They raised their glasses and clinked them together, then they took a sip and went for the cake. As Nives had foreseen, Michele had just a couple of bites and Massimo took care of the rest; Marina, too, who usually ate little, after two or three mouthfuls gave up and Livio took care of what remained.

“Now it’s our turn”, he then said, as they finished the cake. He gestured to the other men and with them, he cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, leaving the three women chitchatting among them, while the children were busy with their own businesses: Silvano with a videogame, Michele with Nives’ and Richard’s smartphones, Marina with a jigsaw puzzle.

“What do you do for a living, Max?” asked Richard, wanting to get to know better Nives’ best friends.

“I’m in the police”, he answered. “I followed in my father’s footsteps.”

“Whoa! You fight crime in the streets, then?”

“Not anymore, I did it when I was younger. Now for some years they placed me behind a desk. But I don’t complain: when I was on patrol, I got a couple of terrible frights and, you know, with a wife and two little children, I prefer it this way, so I’m happy even with a desk job.”

“I understand completely”, the Brit actor approved. “And you, Livio?”

“I’m a social worker, I take care of disabled persons.”

“An admirable job”, Richard considered, sincerely. “Last year I played a social worker in a movie and I did my research thoroughly to make my character more substantial and deliver a convincing performance.”

“Nives told me you always do thorough research for your characters”, Massimo said and the actor nodded to confirm.

“But Chop is disillusioned”, he added, referring to his character. “He drinks and smokes a lot, degrading himself. Until he meets Urban, a child living in terrible conditions, and he decides to save him, saving himself in the process. It’s a compelling story, inspired by a true fact that happened at the end of the Nineties in Leeds. The movie is due to be released in theatres at the beginning of next year, assuming it finds a distributor. The title is _Urban and the Shed Crew_.”

“I’ll be sure not to miss it”, Livio promised, interested; Massimo, too, nodded.

Soon they sat again at the table, except for their host, who asked if they wanted coffee. They all said yes.

“Silvano, didn’t you want to ask something to Richard?” Fulvia urged her eldest son on, with the clear intent to encourage him. The lad blushed.

“Hum, I don’t know if it’s a good idea…” he murmured.

“You’ll never know, if you don’t ask”, Fulvia observed wisely.

Richard had heard his name, but he hadn’t grasped what they were saying because mother and son had spoken in Italian. Fulvia translated the exchange for him.

“Ask away, Silvano”, the Brit spurred him on.

“Well, I…” the lad started. “I wanted to ask you if you could sign a book!” he blurted out all in one breath.

“Of course, gladly”, Richard promptly accepted. Silvano leapt up like a spring and ran to rummage in a bag; he then carried a rather thick tome to the table and placed it in front of the actor. It was a photobook of _The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey_ ; Silvano opened it on a full-page picture of Thorin Oakenshield.

“Here… please”, he said, pointing to a corner and handing Richard a permanent marker with a thin point he had especially purchased.

Smiling, Richard wrote a dedication: _To Silvano, with friendship, Richard Armitage_.

“What about a photo together, so you can show it to your friends?” the actor asked surprisingly.

Silvano stared at him breathless, unable even to answer except for an affirmative nod.

“I’ll take care of that”, Fulvia said, grabbing her mobile. “Stand over there”, she ordered them, showing them a well-lit corner of the room. The two took position and Richard placed his arm around Silvano’s shoulders. The lad came up to his chin, more or less like Nives with the ten-centimetres-heels she had been wearing that night at the Old Vic. Noticing it, Nives laughed within herself, shaking her head: the boy was probably going to grow taller than his father was.

“I’d like to have a picture of you and Nives”, Fulvia said.

“Happily”, Richard accepted at once. Silvano withdrew, still dumbfounded, as Nives took his place.

“Can I have one, too?” Francesca asked. They nodded and waited for her to shoot.

“But now, I want one with all of you guys”, the actor announced.

“I’ll do that, I’ll do that!” Michele yelled excitedly, after Nives had translated for Livio and Francesca. They got all close to Richard and Nives, keeping them in the middle; using Richard’s iPhone, Michele shot three pictures from different angles, showing a certain skill as a photographer.

“And now, I’d like to have a picture with Nives’ godson and goddaughter”, the actor said. Michele approached him immediately, but it took some time for Francesca to convince Marina. In the end, the girl accepted and got close to her godmother, but she didn’t look at the camera. Fulvia shot a couple of pictures, then Richard gave his heartfelt thanks to the children, who therefore felt highly regarded, to the point that even Marina beamed at him before going back to her toys.

Meanwhile, Livio had kept an eye on the coffee pot and, noting that it was now ready, he poured it into the small espresso cups that he then took to the table, along with a sugar bowl and a small milk jug, so that everyone could have his or hers favourite coffee.

They drank it and chatted comfortably until almost half past three. At this point, Nives regretfully remembered everybody that she and Richard had to leave for the Isle of Elba.

Hugging her, Francesca told her very softly:

“I’m so, so happy for you, darling… Richard is a fantastic man under every point of view and you deserve him completely. I saw how much you were hurting, before… I saw you dying inside day by day and I felt so bad for you. While since when you’re with him, you bloomed again and now you’re again the Nives I met so many years ago, as bright as the sun.”

Francesca was one of the very few people Nives had told about her suicidal thoughts a couple of years earlier, thoughts that only Richard’s love had definitively wiped out. Not even Fulvia knew about them.

“Thank you, Franca”, Nives murmured, using her friend’s name diminutive. “Though I must sometimes pinch myself to be sure I’m not dreaming…”

“Oh no, you’re wide awake”, Francesca reassured her with an affectionate smile.

Then, it was Fulvia’s turn to hug Nives.

“Have fun during your vacation”, she said softly. “Enjoy your man and don’t think about the rest of the world.”

Massimo crushed her into a bear hug and Livio, too, squeezed her affectionately. By the look on Nives’ friends’ faces, Richard realised they truly loved her and was happy, because they were like siblings to her.

Finally, it was the children’s turn. Michele kissed his godmother with enthusiasm, Silvano was more reluctant – a typical attitude for boys of his age – while Marina accepted her godmother’s kiss but didn’t return it. This didn’t surprise Richard, because Nives had explained to him that she kissed only her mother, one of the many small signals of her _diversity_ , caused by the psycho-physical aftermaths of her being a preemie.

Richard received Fulvia’s and Francesca’s hugs, virile handshakes from Massimo and Livio, juvenile handshakes from Silvano and Michele; he didn’t even dream about getting too near to Marina as not to scare her, so he just said goodbye to her, and was pleasantly surprised when she reciprocated with a wave of her little hand.

At last, Nives and Richard exited and headed for her car. To ensure that during the time of their stop for lunch the inside of the car didn’t turn into a crematorium, Nives had had the precaution to park it in the shade of a small cluster of trees. This proved to have been an excellent idea, because exiting the air-conditioned flat, they gasped in the sultry heat of yet another torrid day. They hurried into the car and Nives turned the air-conditioner at full blast for the first minutes of the journey, until the temperature dropped to an acceptable level.

“Celtic music”, Richard smiled, listening to the tune coming from the car hi-fi system.

“My favourite, along the Native American music”, said Nives. “But no one beats Alan Parsons! I hope I’ll see him playing live again soon. Now that he’s the producer of a Rome rock group, he has already been in Italy three times in three years, so maybe he’ll return in a short while”, she concluded.

“I hope that’ll be the case”, Richard nodded.

Soon enough, they hit the motorway, which they would follow to the exit nearest to Piombino.

“Which time are we due to arrive at the port?” Richard asked. She glanced at the navigator.

“At a quarter past eight, depending on the traffic. Add fifteen minutes to refuel, so I’d say half past eight. Unless you want to stop along the way to have dinner.”

“Can we sup on board the ferry?”

“Sure, though they haven’t a great variety of food, as it’s just a one-hour-trip.”

“That’s fine, with everything we have been eating yesterday and today, I’ll settle for a sandwich.”

“And a salad for me!” Nives laughed. “I must watch my figure…”

“But you have a perfect physique!” cried Richard, surprised.

“Because I watch my figure”, she reiterated with a smile. “I adore eating, but I put on weight like nothing and I have to manage day by day. I always have Raffi’s cooperation in this respects, and Marcella’s, her cook, too. Otherwise, I’d have to go on a strict diet for one month and the idea is not appealing at all. Better having half a kilo to lose than five…”

Richard knew something about mandatory alimentary regimens: to perform Porter in _Strike Back_ , he had to work out hard to develop a physique that would be credible for a member of the SAS, and follow a high-protein diet; and he had to do as much to perform Francis Dolarhyde, who was a body builder. A slimming diet wasn’t much different, from the point of view of food restrictions.

“I understand completely”, he therefore nodded.

The journey progressed easily. It was an August Sunday afternoon and the traffic would come mainly from the opposite direction, meaning from the sea, not towards it, therefore Nives thought they wouldn’t find significant slowdowns in the two critical junctions they would meet, that is, Bologna and Florence. In fact, they travelled fast and came to the pier thirty minutes before the 21.10 ferry, precisely when they were beginning to board, therefore they could take advantage of the opportunity to use the prior fare.

As Nives was skilfully manoeuvring to park the car in the hold of the ship, Richard said:

“Believe it or not, this is the first time I board a ferry with a car. The other times I was on foot.” 

“For me, too, this fare has been my first”, she told him, turning the engine off. “At that time, I owned a Volkswagen Polo 16 valves, with a 103 horsepower engine of 1400 cc, lowered suspension and large wheels, a veritable _monster_ ”, she laughed. “I indulged myself with a fast, bold car: you know, as I couldn’t afford a Ferrari…”

Richard burst into laughter.

“I always choose comfort over performance”, he confessed.

“Me too, after the Polo experience which, by the way, had the fault of being too _pumped up_ and therefore, after just a few years, it started to have problems. With one thing and another, I spent a lot of money on it, until one day it left me stuck as I was heading for the Venice carnival. I was so furious that I decided to change it. I wanted a Golf, but it was off my budget, so I settled with this Opel Corsa, and I must say that I’m not disappointed at all.”

They got off the car.

“Good gracious, it’s _hot_ in here!” Richard panted. He hadn’t expected such a torrid temperature in the hold.

“It’s always like this, down here”, Nives said. “I suppose it’s different in the early morning, but I’m not sure, as I’ve never been on a ferry at that time. Come”, she concluded, leading the way to the nearest exit.

They went up on deck to get some fresh air and enjoy the twilight on the sea. When the ship sailed, they remained a little longer to watch Piombino’s lights fall behind them, then they entered and headed for the dining room, where they easily found a free table because at that time, most travellers had already dined. Richard had a sandwich and a beer, while Nives chose a fruit salad. Then, they returned on deck to enjoy the coolness and admire the stunning starry sky visible from the top deck.

When the ferry began the docking operations at Portoferraio, Nives called Raffaella to inform her that they were about to disembark and that she expected to be at Altariva Estate around 11 o’clock.

“Very well!” Raffaella cried with enthusiasm. “See you!”

Leaving Portoferraio, the road was almost deserted and therefore they reached Altariva right on schedule. They stopped at the entrance to ring the bell, and a moment later the gate opened. They drove down the alley to the yard in front of the main entrance, as the owners came to the threshold of the nineteenth-century villa, waiting for their guests.

(*) Good morning, my love.

(**) My sweet Italian girl.

(***) And I love you, my handsome British boy.

(****) Italian citrus-flavoured soft drink, similar to the Scottish Irn-Bru or the British Tizer.


	5. Chapter V: Sunday, August 9th, 2015

**Chapter V: Sunday, August 9 th, 2015**

Raffaella awoke in Jerry’s arms, who was hugging her from behind. She tried to move very quietly, but as she began to withdraw from her husband, she felt his hold tightening around her.

“Where are you going, honey?” she heard him whisper. A moment later she felt him rubbing his nose against her bare shoulder and then his lips placing there a kiss.

“To the bathroom!” she answered laughing. “Give me a minute...”

He let go of her, but only after caressing deliberately her hip. When she returned after freshening up, Raffaella discovered that he had opened the shutters before returning in bed, so that the sunshine of the summer morning was streaming into the room.

Seeing his wife, Jerry pretended to yawn, raking his fingers through his hair in a gesture that highlighted his athletic physique. Raffaella stopped on the threshold, admiring it. Jerry opened his eyes, smiling slyly: he knew _exactly_ how much he affected her.

“You’re a true... a true...filibuster!” Raffaella blurted out. “I’m going to make you regret it!”

She quickly crossed the room to the bed and had him laying flat on his belly, then she straddled his legs so that he couldn’t turn. She began caressing his back, starting from his shoulders and going all the way down to his firm buttocks. She then used her fingernails to scratch him lightly up and down on the whole extent of his back.

“Ah! Baby, who’s the filibuster now...?” Jerry groaned, arching his body under her touch.

“This will teach you not to give me a heart attack in the morning when I just woke up!” Raffaella giggled, bending down to brush his back with the tips of her breasts, then she lay upon him and kissed the nape of his neck with feather-light lips.

Jerry trembled perceptibly, excited, and he felt all his blood going south, making his virility blossom forcefully.

“You asked for it!” he uttered, feigning a threatening tone. He pushed powerfully with his arms and turned on his back, making Raffaella roll consequently on hers. Then, he turned quickly again and in a flash he was on top of her, grasped her arms and lifted them over her head before bending down his head and kissing her passionately.

They needed some time before getting out of their bed.

OOO

Knowing well Jerry’s tastes, Marcella had cooked him the typical American breakfast with scrambled eggs, bacon, slices of toasted bread, marmalade, cereals, as well coffee, while for Raffaella she had prepared the classical Italian breakfast with cappuccino and cookies – she particularly liked the _Abbracci_ by Mulino Bianco (*) – and a fresh baked croissant from the cake shop.

As they ate with a hearty appetite – surely _whetted_ by their morning activity – Raffaella heard the trill that announced the arrival of a Whatsapp message. Firm supporter of the idea that one has not to fiddle around with the mobile when sitting at the table, she would have ignored it, except that she had silenced everybody but family, so she took a look at it and saw it was Jerry’s daughter.

“It’s Alyssa”, she informed him, opening the message. Reading it, she smiled. “She tells me that she found the book in a comics-shop in Pasadena. She thought immediately that it was no mere coincidence and that it was there for her to pick it for me. Your daughter is simply _adorable_ ”, she concluded, slightly moved.

“I’d love it if, after graduating, she’d come and live here with us”, Jerry considered.

“I too would love it but, sadly, objectively she’ll have the best job opportunities in the States, not here in Italy, even less in a restricted environment such as the Isle of Elba.”

The American man sighed.

“Regrettably, you’re right... But maybe she could take a sabbatical, between graduating and the beginning of her job life, possibly three or four months that she could spend here, if you agree.”

“This is your home too”, Raffaella reminded him. “Alyssa will always be welcome, every time she’ll be willing to come and for as long as she wishes to stay. You know she’s like a daughter to me...”

“In some ways, you’re more her mother than Sonya, who never appreciated her penchant for computer science and dreamed for her a career like hers, while you have constantly encouraged and supported her.”

His relation with his ex-wife, though civil, was anyway still rather tense and they passed usually through their respective lawyers.

“I’m very glad that Alyssa and I get along so well”, stated Raffaella, who truly loved her husband’s daughter. She rose. “Talking about presents, I too have one for you, but to see it, we need to go for a short drive...”

Surprised, Jerry followed his wife to the entrance hall, where he waited for her as she went for her purse.

“I drive”, he offered as she came back.

“Nope, because you’re going to be blindfolded”, Raffaella said, seraphic, handing him a scarf. “Otherwise, if you see where we are heading for, you’ll guess at once what it might be, while I wish it to be a surprise until the very last possible moment.”

“Whoa, looks more and more intriguing!” Jerry cried, accepting the scrap of purple silk. “Any chance you want to do something like _9 ½ Weeks_ to me...?” he added with such a comically expectant look, that Raffaella burst into laughter.

“Not this time, but you made me have dangerous ideas!” she declared as they exited. Jerry followed her and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hey, I count on it”, he said with complete earnestness. Raffaella gave him a smile full of promises and started the engine. Jerry then folded the scarf to make a blindfold and covered his eyes, tying it behind his head.

“No cheating, okay?” his wife urged him. “I’d hate it if you ruin the surprise...”

“I won’t, cross my heart!” he assured her.

The journey lasted just a few minutes. After stopping the car, Raffaella announced:

“We’re there, but don’t take off the blindfold yet.”

“Okay”, Jerry said. Raffaella got off the SUV and went to the passenger door to open it for him, helping her blinded husband to get off in turn. Jerry took a few steps, then a whiff of manure reached his nose as he heard a neigh in the distance. Combined with the shortness of the trip, these clues made him realise where they were.

“But... are we at the riding school?” he asked.

Shortly after beginning with her winemaking business, Raffaella had rented a piece of wooded land to a sports association, which had created a riding centre called _Costa dei Gabbiani_ (**), where they practiced both Western and English riding style. They hosted a dozen horses, quarter horses and appaloosa for Western Style and Maremma horses for English Style.

“I should have known that a Yankee grown up in a ranch would recognise a riding centre even blindfolded!” Raffaella snorted, feigning irritation. “Come on, take off the scarf and come meeting Giorgio’s new guest”, she concluded, talking about to the owner of the riding school and, after eight years of fruitful collaboration, good friend as well.

Jerry took off the kerchief and gave it back to Raffaella, who stuffed it into her purse and signalled him to follow her. Entering the stables, they saw Giorgio and two of his collaborators at the far end, busy with preparing a few horses – evidently, someone had booked a horseback ride – and they exchanged greeting waves.

Raffaella halted in front of the second box and turned towards Jerry.

“This is Sky” she said, on her lips a broad beam.

Jerry approached the box. A gorgeous black and white paint horse turned to look at them with the most azure eyes Jerry had ever seen in a horse.

“I purchased it for you”, Raffaella announced, gloating.

Jerry’s jaw almost hit the ground: knowing his wife’s aversion for horses, of which she was irrationally as much as truly terrified, he would never expect such a present.

“You purchased him _for me_?” he repeated, almost breathless.

“Yep!” she laughed joyfully. “Giorgio advised me. Do you like him?”

“He’s gorgeous! But… why? My birthday is in January, our wedding anniversary in February, and Christmas is still a long time to come...”

“Do I have to have a reason, to give you a present?” she asked, tilting her head to one side in a way Jerry found adorable. He felt moved and tears dampened his eyes; he blinked rapidly to chase them away and he hugged Raffaella, holding her so tight he almost crushed her.

“Of course not”, he whispered, before kissing her breathless. Sky observed them, then he uttered a light snort as to show his puzzlement. 

After a very long, very sweet kiss, Jerry removed his lips from Raffaella’s to look into her joy-filled eyes.

“I love you so much, honey”, he said softly, cuddling her for a few moments. He kissed her hair, then he let go of her. “Best if I calm myself or it’s going to be a quite different _horse ride_ than one can make with this splendid paint… Those haystacks look rather comfy…” he grinned impishly, pointing to the back of the box.

Raffaella felt suddenly hot as she imagined herself naked on the hay with Jerry.

“Oh… well…” she muttered, then she gave him a naughty smile. “We can do that, _amò_ … one of these nights…”

Jerry felt his throat going dry at the idea and heaved a sigh. “Careful, baby, I’ll take your word…”

“You know I’m a woman of my word”, she reminded him, winking. She had never thought about making love in the hay of a stable, but now the idea was tempting her very much. However, at that moment it was untimely indulging in such thoughts, so she changed subject. “Don’t you want to meet Sky?” she asked.

“Sure!” Jerry accepted at once. “Come here, boy”, he then said to the horse, stretching out his hand to make him sniff at it.

At that moment, Giorgio joined them.

“Hi, Raffi. Welcome back, Jerry”, he greeted them. “How’s your mother?”

“Much better, thank you for asking”, the American man answered, appreciating Giorgio’s interest.

“I hope she’ll be visiting us again soon”, Giorgio commented, referring to Vanessa’s visit at Altariva Estate three years earlier.

“She too would love it. Maybe next year.”

Giorgio approached the box. He was a tall, big man, red-blond with a ginger beard making him look like a Viking.

“I see you’re getting acquainted with Sky”, he observed. “What do you say: did Raffaella and I choose well?”

“A perfect choice, I’d say”, Jerry affirmed. “How old is he?”

“Almost four years old. He’s been tamed six months ago by a trainer I trust completely. He says that Sky has a very docile and generous character, and that he loves especially carrots. Here”, he gave Jerry a big specimen of the said vegetable. The archer accepted it and offered it to Sky, who briefly smelled it and then took it gently in his teeth, beginning to munch.

“What about taking him to the paddock and work a bit with the long line?” Giorgio suggested.

“Excellent idea”, Jerry accepted at once.

“I’ll sit in the shade and have a nice cold tea”, Raffaella announced, pointing to the bench under an eucalyptus – a tree that had been imported from Australia and had found a favourable habitat in this part of Elba – and then she exited the stables, heading for the bar kiosk.

Jerry opened the box and took Sky’s halter, leading him on with a firm hand, but gently. Giorgio helped the American man to bandage the horse’s shanks, to protect his legs as he was a young specimen, then Jerry hooked the long line onto the special ring on the front of the halter. Soon enough, he was leading Sky in wide rounds inside the paddock, watching his way to move. He noted that the horse was sure-footed, agile and light, and he was responding well to both his verbal and postural commands.

“He wants to run”, he declared aloud, talking to Raffaella who, as she had announced, was sitting not far away, sipping a cold green tea.

“Then you can come back here in the afternoon and have a nice horseback walk”, she exhorted him. Jerry was tempted, but only for a few moments. He shook his head.

“I’d rather prefer to stay with you, honey”, he said. Knowing his love for horses and well guessing his excitement for the unexpected gift, Raffaella felt butterflies in her stomach. However, as much as she was dying to be with her husband after the weeks of separation, she felt terrible to make him delay the pleasure to ride Sky for the first time, so she thought about a compromise.

“Well, today’s going to be very hot again”, she considered. “You can come back in the late afternoon, let’s say around six thirty, and have a one-hour ride.”

“Brilliant”, Jerry approved with a beam. Sky was moving obeying promptly to his orders, showing they had trained him very well. After ten minutes or so, he had him change direction. He urged him into a full gallop and admired his strength and elegance. He was undoubtedly a high-class horse. 

When he finished, as they had worked in full sun, both horse and his rider-to-be were hot, though it was just 10 o’clock in the morning. Jerry coiled up the long line and made Sky come near, then he led him to the trough to drink his fill, in the shade next the stable entrance. Meanwhile, Giorgio and his assistants had gone for a ride with a group of clients, so Jerry and Raffaella were on their own.

Jerry grabbed the hose and sprayed Sky’s legs with water to cool them down.

“Gosh, it’s hot today!” he mumbled, wiping his brow. Hearing him, Raffaella thought about having a little fun at his expense: she grabbed another hose and splashed a little water over him.

“Hey!” he protested, laughing, then he turned his hose towards her and splashed her in turn.

“Ah!” she cried, showing delight. “With this heat, I needed just this!”

She turned her hose on the spray mode and pointed it towards her husband, drenching the front of his t-shirt, which stuck on his chest revealing the reliefs of his toned pectorals.

“What goes around, comes around”, Jerry commented with a devilish grin, returning the _favour_. Through the soaked layers of her t-shirt and bra, her stiff nipples emerged and captured his stare.

“You’re a rascal!” she accused him, chuckling. “Let’s lay down our _weapons_ and go back home, it’s better…”

“Too bad, I like to see you as _Miss Wet T-Shirt_ ”, Jerry declared, lolling his tongue in a deliberately funny mimicry of a hungry wolf. Raffaella met the challenge.

“Oh, really?” she smirked, pushing out her breasts. Suddenly Jerry felt hotter than ever.

“What a naughty girl you are… wait till I get you…” he pretended to threaten her. Raffaella didn’t move and stuck her tongue out. Jerry approached her and grasped her waist.

“Now I’m going to make you regret it!” he murmured, bending over her and kissing her soundly. She looped her arms around his back and returned the kiss with as much ardour, heedless to those who could possibly see them.

“You’re not bad yourself as _Mister Wet T-Shirt_ ”, she then said. They laughed both at the childish game, feeling carefree exactly like kids. This was something that regularly happened to them: being together put them both in a good mood.

They put back in place the hoses and dried themselves as best they could using the paper towels from the roll next to the stable entrance, then Jerry led Sky back to his box.

They returned home and changed; Raffaella donned a white dress with spaghetti strings, while Jerry put on a light blue t-shirt and Bermuda shorts to match, and then they went downstairs for lunch.

It was too hot to eat outside on the terrace and therefore, Salvo had wisely set the dining room, where the air conditioner was working on idle. This was something Jerry had had to get used to, as in the States they generally set these devices on full blast, but Raffaella had been adamant: she absolutely didn’t want excessive difference between indoor and outdoor temperatures, which was extremely harmful to health, and Jerry admitted she got a point there.

They sat down for a tasty and refreshing meal with raw vegetables and cheeses.

“I remember that one of the things that most struck me, when I first came to Italy, is the incredible number of cheese varieties”, Jerry observed between bites.

“I always thought it very bizarre that there are so few in America”, commented Raffaella. “Considering the incredibly huge livestock farms existing there, they could make a very large number of cheese types. Perhaps it’s because there’s no as great a tradition as we have in Italy.”

Jerry nodded. “Perhaps that’s the reason, yeah.”

As they finished, Salvo came to clear the table.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked. “Maybe an iced shake?”

They accepted gladly, as the waiter made a truly delicious coffee shake, using sugar syrup and vanilla extract.

After the coffee, Jerry cast his wife an impish grin. “Shall we go for a nap…?”

She guessed all too well what he precisely meant for _nap_ and answered by simply rising with a matching grin and heading upstairs.

They spent together a delicious afternoon, not for the number of times they made love, but for the _quality_ of their lovemaking, deeply enjoying one another, with both body and soul, as it happens only between two people who are truly in love with each other.

Around half past six, Jerry returned to the riding centre, as Raffaella had suggested. He saddled Sky slowly, talking to him constantly as to get him used to his gestures and voice. The horse showed to trust completely his new rider, a trust that was the result of both the excellent training he had received and his quiet character. Giorgio joined them, riding a particularly sturdy quarter horse called Goliath, and the two men had a nice ride along the dirt tracks among the estate’s vineyards and into the wooded area of Mount Calamita, where a soft carpet of maritime pine needles covered the ground.

Before eight o’clock, Jerry was back; he had a quick shower, then he joined Raffaella for dinner, which Salvo served on the terrace under the gazebo. This time, Marcella had prepared for them a Roman cuisine specialty: boneless veal cutlets, breaded and fried, which were Raffaella’s passion, with a side dish of mixed salad, followed by a pineapple salad as a dessert.

Waiting for Richard’s and Nives’ arrival, they watched TV. Shortly after 10 o’clock, Raffaella’s cell phone rang: her friend informed them that they were about to disembark and would be there around 11 p.m., meaning one hour earlier than planned.

“Excellent!” Raffaella cried, happy. “We’re waiting for you!”

OOO

Arriving at Altariva Estate, Nives saw Raffaella on the threshold signalling to her she should park under the shed, as usual. Nives quickly manoeuvred, then she and Richard got off her car as their hosts approached them.

“Welcome!” Jerry cried, then looked at Richard. “I’m Jeremy Runner.”

“Richard Armitage”, the Brit introduced himself. “Nice to meet you.”

“My pleasure: I’m a fan of yours”, Jerry declared. “And it’s all my wife Raffaella’s fault, as she shares with Nives the passion for Tolkien and subsequently for Peter Jackson’s movies”, he concluded, laughing.

Meanwhile, Raffaella and Nives had exchanged an affectionate hug.

“Raffi, may I introduce you to Richard Armitage?” Nives said. “Richard, this is my dear friend Raffaella Romani.”

“Nice to meet you”, said Richard. “Beautiful house”, he added, pointing his chin to the villa.

“Thank you. I don’t know if Nives told you, but before starting to produce wine, I used to be an architect, therefore I had great fun at renovating it, keeping the original look but equipping it with every possible comfort and trying my best to be environmentally friendly”, Raffaella paused and laughed. “Don’t get me started on these topics or I’ll get carried away! Though my vocation is vine growing and wine making, interior design remains a great passion of mine.”

“I like hearing people talking about their passions”, Richard assured her, taking an instant liking to her, as well as to her husband. “Even the most boring topic becomes interesting, if someone truly passionate talks about it.”

“I agree”, Jerry declared. “For me, the topic is archery, so you’re warned!” he concluded humorously.

In the meantime, Nives had opened the trunk and Richard got there at once to help unloading their luggage. He and Jerry carried the trolleys inside, while the women linked their arms and followed them.

“How was your trip?” Raffaella enquired.

“As smooth as silk”, Nives answered. “Most traffic was the other way, but it wasn’t anyway that much.”

“All the better! I think you’re both tired, but before we take you to your room, would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, thanks”, Nives answered. “Fruit juice, if possible.”

Richard asked for a glass of water, so they left their baggage in the hall and headed for the kitchen, seating themselves at the counter. After having their drinks – Jerry and Raffaella kept them company, drinking in turn – the newcomers were taken upstairs to their room.

“Tell me, how did Jerry react to Sky?” Nives enquired, as she and Raffaella preceded the men.

“He was so surprised that he didn’t know what to say”, Raffaella answered with a satisfied grin. “He liked him straight away, and Sky liked him in turn. Jerry is very good with horses.”

“Not for nothing he grew up in a ranch”, Nives nodded.

As they came to the second floor, Raffaella opened the door to the room Nives usually occupied when she came visiting, and ushered her in. Richard and Jerry followed with the suitcases.

“Nice!” the actor commented, pleased, looking around the room: light salmon-coloured walls, walnut wood furniture in Tuscan style, and an annexed spacious bathroom, equipped with a large Jacuzzi and a walk-in shower.

Their hosts bid goodnight to their guests and retired. Nives and Richard took turns for a quick shower, then they went to bed, deferring the unpacking until the next morning.

(*) Hugs (a type of cookies) by White Mill (a famous Italian trademark by Barilla, in turn a famous trademark for pasta).

(**) Seagulls’ Coast.


	6. Chapter VI: Monday, August 10th, 2015

**Chapter VI: Monday, August 10 th, 2015**

Nives woke up slowly; feeling Richard’s arms around her, she sighed contentedly.

“Good morning, my queen”, she heard him murmuring; his warm breath brushing her ear made her heart flutter as much as her stomach, as if a celestial chord.

“Good morning to you, king of my heart”, she replied softly, turning towards him. Their lips met in the darkness in a sweet kiss, then Richard turned on the bedside lamp and rose to open the shutters onto the bright summer morning. Nives feasted her eyes on his statuesque physique, as both of them usually slept in the nude, when they were together. Turning, the actor caught her staring at him in appreciation and smiled, flattered. He went back to bed and slipped again under the sheet, but Nives pulled it immediately off.

“Too bad covering such a beautiful sight”, she giggled naughtily.

“I agree”, he promptly replied, staring at her from top to toe, his eyes sparkling. Laughing, she hugged him and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I adore looking at you”, she declared. “You’re striking… and don’t you dare contradict me!” she added in a feigned threatening tone.

“I don’t even think about it… I don’t want you going to my mom telling her I complain about her job with me”, Richard smirked, then he enfolded her into his embrace and held her flush to him, avid to feel her skin against his. “And anyway, I too adore looking at you, you’re stunning…”

“I’m glad you thin…”

He cut off the sentence on her lips sealing them with a kiss, as he slowly moved a caressing hand on her arm, going all the way down to her hand and lacing their fingers together. He lifted her hand, then he removed his mouth from hers to brush her ring finger with the tip of his tongue, well knowing how this would affect her. Nives felt her feminine depths quiver and automatically raised her leg over his hip to pull him nearer.

“You’re truly a big bad boy”, she panted, arching her body against his. Richard smiled secretly, satisfied.

“Oh yes”, he admitted brazenly, leaving her hand to grasp her waist and pressing her against himself, moving in a provocative way. Feeling him brushing against the blazing centre of her body, she moaned.

“Wha… what are you up to…?” she gasped, in a completely rhetorical way because it was perfectly clear to her what her man wanted to do.

“Take a guess”, he grinned, slipping down between her legs. Nives rolled on her back and opened completely to Richard, offering herself to his sensual caresses and kisses with no false modesty.

Excited by the scent of her arousal, Richard brushed the soft folds of her femininity with fingers as light as butterflies, making her shiver in pleasure.

“R… Richard… oh!”

She jumped and almost shrieked when he touched her skilfully where she was most sensitive.

“You’re so hot… and soft…” he murmured, looking in rapture at her ecstatic face: there is no greater satisfaction, for a man, than giving pleasure to his woman, and he adored giving pleasure to Nives. He bent lower and exchanged his fingers with his lips, placing them on her swollen nub and caressing it gently. Then, he opened her flower with his tongue, savouring its secret flavour. Nives arched her back with a cry, breathless, overwhelmed by the sensations that Richard’s mouth was giving her. She felt her inner walls shaking hard and a sense of dizziness caught her.

“Love… oh love, please… I want you inside of me…”

As pleasurable as his ministrations were, nothing was better than feeling his virility buried within her body, being one with him, joined both in flesh and soul; and he was simply too good at making her burn with yearning with just a glance, a caress, a kiss.

Usually, Richard loved lingering on foreplay, caressing and kissing her to her limit, but this morning he decided to do as she asked. There would be another time to _punish_ her, making her mad with craving for him.

“Very well”, he murmured, rising to lay down on top of her. “Look at me, Nives…”

She opened her eyes, as she had closed them, overwhelmed with pleasure, and stared into his striking azure irises. Then, Richard made his way inside of her body, sinking slowly into it as he liked to do, to savour every inch of her warm depths: in this, he wouldn’t allow her to rush him on. Nives lifted her hips to welcome him, sighing.

“Wonderful…” she whispered.

“Yes… yes, it is”, he confirmed softly, withdrawing and then thrusting again. “Ohhh…” he sighed in turn. He thought that he had never, in his whole life, felt as much pleasure as with Nives, and he didn’t mean just the physical part.

They moved in unison, cultivating the reciprocal enjoyment with amorous care. Charmed, Richard watched the succession of delighted expressions on Nives’ face, proud to be their cause. He slightly increased the rhythm, thrusting more forcefully, and she responded accordingly, her eyes closing uncontrollably. She threw her head backwards, exposing her throat, and he took advantage of it as to lower his lips on the delicate, sensitive skin, brushing it.

“Ah, Richard…” Nives gasped. Wanting to feel him more, she lifted her knees and hooked her ankles behind his back. Encouraged, Richard propped on his arms, changing angle, and his movements became wider and stronger. Promptly, she followed suit, responding in counterpoint. Keeping unwavering eye contact, they saw only each other’s face; their ears were full of their love laments, as they heard only each other’s voice. Together, they danced a choreography dictated by their shared feelings. Pleasure grew within them, increasing with each thrust, leading them to vertiginous peaks, higher and higher, and finally hurled them beyond the stars as they reached the top at the same moment. Moaning and sighing together in perfect synchrony, they abandoned themselves to the long wave of mutual fulfilment, their bodies shaking, their breaths laboured, their minds clouded by ecstasy.

Slowly, they came back from the almost supernatural dimension they had reached. Richard lay himself gently down on top of Nives, propping on his elbows, and cupped her face.

“ _Ti amo così tanto, mia dolce ragazza italiana_ …” (*) he whispered in her idiom, before placing feather-light kisses all over her face, ending on her lips. He lingered there for a minute before gently shoving his tongue between them. Nives parted her lips, welcoming him and returning his kiss.

“ _Anch’io ti amo altrettanto, mio bel ragazzo britannico_ ”, (**) she whispered in turn, as soon as she could speak again.

They indulged in sweet caresses for some time, then finally Nives looked out of the window, where the daylight was now broad.

“We should go down for breakfast or they’ll wonder if aliens abducted us”, she chuckled.

“I’d stay in bed with you all day”, Richard declared. Nives’ breath caught in her throat as she considered a repetition of those two fantastic days at the London première of _The Battle of Five Armies_ , when she and Richard had practically never left the bed except for eating. However, back then they had been staying at a hotel and had to account to nobody, whereas now they were guests in Raffaella’s and Jerry’s house, and it felt indecorous. Or better, it felt indecorous doing so without previously informing them: knowing her friends, they could do as much…

“Judging by your smirk, can I dare thinking the idea is tantalising you…?” Richard asked, hopeful.

“It’s tantalising me greatly!” she admitted, blushing a little. “But it seems to me very rude not showing up all day without at least informing our hosts… who could anyway decide to do as much”, she concluded giggling.

“You say?” the British actor grinned. “But this means that we have to get out of the bed, now…” he then added, not hiding his reluctance; but of course, she was right.

“Well, we anyway need to _recharge our batteries_ ”, Nives reminded him, winking. “So we’ll have more energy for later, to spend in… _interesting_ activities.”

At this point, Richard burst into laughter: Nives was irresistibly hilarious when she talked like this, and it was one of the reasons he loved her.

After freshening up, they went downstairs and headed for the kitchen; it was past nine o’clock, but following their guests’ invitation the night before, they took what they needed from the fridge and arranged their breakfast.

As they were finishing eating, Jerry came in looking for a fruit juice.

“Good morning!” he smiled cordially. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, very well, thanks”, answered Nives.

“I see you made your breakfast, good”, Jerry went on. “I notify you that Marcella was a little disappointed this morning, not seeing you coming, and I had to reassure her that you just needed rest after the long trip, even because you went to sleep late.”

“We’ll make up to her at lunch, showering her with compliments”, Nives assured him, and then looked at Richard. “Marcella is the cook and loves playing mother hen with me…”

“Not only with you, but with Raffi and me as well!” Jerry laughed. “Anyway, she told me she can’t wait to meet you, Richard, not as the famous actor, but as Nives’ fiancé.”

“The latter is a title that thrills me much more than _famous actor_ ”, Richard declared, looking at Nives with such an adoring gaze that she felt her knees turning to jelly. She looked at him with equal adoration.

Jerry considered that exchange, understanding completely its meaning because he and Raffaella too looked at each other in that way. He felt very happy for his wife’s friend, a friend that over the years had become his friend, too, and he had grown very fond of her.

Nives recalled something.

“Gosh, I forgot the usual present in the car”, she said. “Though in the shade, it’s hot out there and that’s not good.”

“Then let’s go and get it”, Richard suggested. He knew what it was: to thank her friends for their hospitality, every year Nives brought them a dozen bottles of fine wines from her area.

“I’ll come with you, Richard”, Jerry offered. “Nives, you go and say hello to Raffi, she’s in her office taking a look at the orders, but that won’t be too long.”

Nives fetched the car keys from their room and gave them to Richard; as he and Jerry went to get the bottles, she headed for Raffaella’s office.

As soon as Nives appeared on the threshold of the open door, Raffaella smiled at her and gestured her to come in.

“I was waiting for you, I’m already done”, she declared, rising. “Last night I didn’t tell you how happy I am to have you here with Richard.”

“And I’m happy to be here with Richard”, Nives replied, as her friend took her hands and squeezed them. A fleeting lump closed her throat. “For so many years I dreamt about coming to visit you with someone, instead of alone…” she murmured.

“And that time has finally come”, Raffaella rejoiced, hugging her impetuously. She was truly happy for her friend, because she knew how much her sentimental loneliness had been hard on her, in all the years they had known each other.

“Yes, indeed… and it still feels like a dream, though next month it will mark one year together, with Richard”, Nives confessed in a low voice. Her tone moved Raffaella, and in her eyes welled up tears.

“Hey, don’t make me cry!” she exclaimed in Roman dialect. “It’s a magnificent reality, just enjoy it! After all, _you_ were the one who taught me that one has to enjoy the _here and now_ , and not lose oneself into useless ramblings about _ifs_ and _buts_!”

“You’re right!” Nives admitted, pushing away her anxiety. “Remind it to me again, if necessary. I hope that, sooner or later, I’ll get this through my thick skull… Come, let’s go and take a look to the wines I brought you this time”, she exhorted her friend, changing subject.

They headed for the kitchen, where meanwhile Jerry and Richard had carried the two cardboard boxes with the bottles. Of course, Nives had carefully selected her choices, as she couldn’t surely look bad in a pro’s eyes: among the red wines there was Valpolicella, Bardolino and Amarone, and among the white wines Gambellara, Vespaiolo and Nives’ favourite _spumante_ , the Fiordarancio of the Euganean Hills.

“This, I heard of, but I haven’t tried it yet”, Raffaella admitted, glancing at a bottle of Vespaiolo. “What’s the reason for this curious name?” (***)

“Because of the wasps that this grapes attract, as they are very sugary when they’re ripe, at harvest time”, Nives explained. “But the wine itself is dry, with a full and aromatic taste, and it goes with strong flavoured fish dishes, grilled vegetables and, in my personal opinion, with semi-aged cheeses.”

Jerry was studying the various labels.

“The Italian wines are so many, I wonder if I’ll ever come to know them all”, he commented. “But this doesn’t discourage me; on the contrary, it stimulates me.”

“I, too, find it stimulating never ceasing to learn”, Richard declared. “As an actor, I think I’m very lucky, as I have many chances to learn thousands of different things because of my job.”

“Speaking of your job…” Nives interjected. “Raffi, yesterday they aired a new episode of _Hannibal_ , the series in which Richard worked. May I use your computer to stream it?”

“Of course you may!” the Roman woman said. “You can go right now, if you wish.”

“I’ll keep you company”, announced Richard. His statement surprised Nives, but for the moment being she ignored it and instead, she looked at him askance, pretending to be suspicious.

“It’s the episode with the love scene between Francis and Reba”, he reminded him. “Are you afraid I’m going to exit the room indignant when I see your naked arse?”

Raffaella – who at the time had been informed about both the anecdote and the sketch at the Armitage’s in the presence of Margaret – laughed aloud, and so did Jerry who, of course, had learned everything from his wife. Richard made the _adorkable_ face he usual put on when he realised he had gotten himself in trouble.

“I want to clarify that this time you won’t see my naked arse, _at all_ …” he grumbled when the others’ hilarity calmed down. By his consternation, they all began laughing again, even harder, and at last he realised that they were just good-naturedly teasing him. With that remark, he had naively aroused the tease even more. He shook his head, laughing at himself: sometimes he was such a dupe…

“Oh, okay then!” he capitulated with a funny grimace, laughing with self-irony.

As he and Nives headed for Raffaella’s office, the hosts looked after the few tasks in the management of the estate they still took care of directly, instead of just supervising them. Anyway, throughout the stay of their more-than-welcome guests, Jerry and Raffaella would work very little, because they took advantage of these two weeks to take a break. Their collaborators were more than able of taking care of the estate’s management, but in case of need, the owners were anyway at hand.

During the short way to their destination, Nives turned to Richard.

“Are you sure you want to watch it?” she enquired. “I know you don’t like seeing yourself in your works...”

“You’re right”, the actor confirmed, serenely. “But this time, I decided to make an exception.”

Nives was aware that Richard’s reluctance to watch himself was born from his perfectionism, which made him think that he could have performed differently and better each scene and each line. The exception he was making was therefore only for her sake, and Nives felt moved, her heart swelling in gratitude. “Thank you, love...”

He addressed her his trademark little smile, which she adored so much. “Anything for you, my sweet Italian girl.”

Nives stopped in the middle of the hallway and slung her arms around his neck.

“Did I already mention that I’m crazy about you, my handsome British boy?” she murmured, before pulling him down to her and kiss him breathlessly. Richard returned her kiss warmly.

“Yeah, you already told me”, he then said softly, chuckling. “But I don’t mind if you repeat it, from time to time...”

Hand in hand, they got into Raffaella’s office and sat behind her desk to watch the streaming. When it was over, they discussed the episode.

“Good show”, she commented pensively. “Heartbreaking, in some ways, because I already know how it will all end…” she sighed, feeling sorry. The actor looked at her tentatively: he had covertly watched her during the love scene and she had looked perfectly cool, but he wasn’t completely convinced that it had not bothered her in any way.

“Aren’t you upset at seeing me in bed with another woman?” he therefore enquired quietly. Nives perceived his anxiety and thought it was very nice of him to worry about her.

“I saw _Francis_ with Reba, not _you_ with another woman”, she answered simply. “I was perfectly aware it was just acting. Besides, you told me that, on Rutina’s advice, you pretended it was me in her place”, she reminded him, quoting his colleague. “Anyway, know that, should it ever happen in real life… I wouldn’t answer for myself”, she concluded very softly, lowering her gaze. Richard felt his heart breaking at the thought that she would even consider such a thing, but he knew that it wasn’t because she didn’t trust _him_ : she didn’t trust _fate_. Once more, he cursed her ex-husband, and he didn’t give a damn if it wasn’t fair because he was dead!

“This will never happen”, he declared, hugging her suddenly. “Rather than hurting you, I’d kill myself…”

Nives looped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest; under her ear, she heard clearly the wild beating of his heart, a symptom of his upset.

“I know”, she murmured. “It’s always the same old problem: I know it in my head, but in my heart still lingers a fear I’m not able to get rid of… Forgive me…”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my love… I only wish I know how to help you to overcome your fear.”

“You’re already doing everything you can”, she reassured him. “I truly don’t know what else you could possibly do…”

They stayed like this for a minute or two, then she withdrew from his embrace and gave him a love-filled smile.

“Let’s stop talking about my fears”, she said firmly. “They’re just fleeting moments that pass quickly… mostly thanks to _you_ ”, she caressed his cheek in a tender gesture. “Going back to _Hannibal_ … You performed a very difficult character in a masterly way. Usually I don’t feel any empathy for psychopathic killers, and as you know, I see many of them, as I watch all those crime series I told you. But you were able to bring to the fore Francis’ human side, as far and buried under layers and layers of madness as it may be…” she paused, thoughtful. “Do you think that Reba could have been able to save Francis from himself?”

Accepting her change of subject, the actor shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so”, he answered. “It was too late for him, and there was no chance of going back anymore.”

“What a shame…” she sighed. “But of course, Bryan Singer couldn’t change the book’s plot”, she concluded. Richard gazed at her, winking.

“Maybe _you_ could do it, writing a fan fiction”, he suggested. “Changing the ending, as you did with _Strike Back_ …”

But she shook her head.

“To do so, I’d need to read the book and honestly, it’s not for me”, she declared. “And anyway, I must finish _Nerwen and the Search for the Entwives_ before”, she reminded him.

“Tell me more”, he asked her. “Especially about my alter ego, that Elven prince: does he just look like Guy of Gisborne, or has he his bad temper, too?”

“His bad temper, too”, Nives smiled. “He’s gruff, snappy, constantly glowering, as humorous as a pain in the arse, ferociously loyal to his sister, the queen. Hey, what’s there to laugh?” she stopped because Richard was chortling.

“You described Gisborne perfectly… but go on, please. How do they meet, he and Nerwen?”

“Their first encounter is quite a clash and they nearly tear each other to pieces, because of course she doesn’t allow him to push her around…”

She quickly described him the scene and he thought it was interesting.

“Like this?” he enquired, approaching Nives; he crossed his arms on his chest and glared at her. “What are you doin’ here? What’s your business in my country?”

For a moment, she was taken aback: was he role-playing as they did in Cortina? She hastily raked her brain in search of a biting answer worth of Nerwen.

“I’m just passing through, I told you”, she snarled, pugnaciously. “And if you think I’m a spy, you’re making a colossal blunder. Anyway, whom am I having the doubtful pleasure to speak with?”

“I’m Aryon Morvacor, First Sword of the queen”, Richard answered. “And I want so badly to kiss you”, he added, changing suddenly his attitude; he took her in his arms and lowered his face to hers. Nives forgot the game and threw her arms around his neck.

“What are you waiting then…?” she asked softly.

Their lips met, parting for a deep contact.

“I love you, Richard…” she whispered after the kiss, feeling like melting in his arms.

“And I love you, Nives”, he replied, before placing again his mouth on hers. He kissed divinely, as Nives had always thought he was capable of doing, seeing him on screen; but of course, experiencing it personally was something entirely different. Her heart was thumping so hard that it felt almost like bursting out of her chest, as a million butterflies flapped around in her stomach. No way, she would never get used at Richard Armitage loving and wanting her.

When they got downstairs again, it was past midday. Jerry and Raffaella were in the sitting room and, seeing them entering, they invited them to join them.

“I’m going to tell Salvo he can serve the aperitif now”, Jerry said. “And I told Marcella to have lunch ready for one o’clock, as you had a late breakfast.”

“Well done”, Nives nodded. “And I hope she made a very light meal.”

“I asked her for a _Caprese_ salad in her style”, Raffaella intervened, well knowing Nives’ unceasing fight against weight gaining. Her friend’s answer was a grateful smile.

Shortly after, Salvo came in with a carafe and a bowl of olives stuffed with red peppers.

“Hello, Miss Nives”, he greeted her, beaming. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“Thanks Salvo, I too am glad to see you again”, she answered. “Later I’ll come and say hullo to your mother.”

“She’ll appreciate it”, the waiter nodded, placing the tray on the coffee table.

“Richard, this is Salvo Muccillo”, Raffaella said. “Salvo, I think you recognised our new guest, Richard Armitage…”

“Alias Thorin Oakenshield”, the young man said, smiling and slightly bending his upper body in a sort of informal bow. “I’m honoured to meet you, Mr Armitage.”

“My pleasure”, Richard replied, favourably impressed by Salvo’s courtesy.

“Today I blended a non-alcoholic cocktail with papaya, mango and orange juice”, Salvo announced, pouring it into the glasses. “I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

They tried the drink, finding it deliciously refreshing, and then the waiter returned to the kitchen.

“A luxury hotel treatment”, Richard commented, popping a stuffed olive in his mouth. He liked very much the Italian habit of having an aperitif before eating.

“Thank you”, said Jerry. “I’ll tell Salvo, he’ll appreciate that.”

They sat and drank, chatting with a pleasant background music. Shortly before one o’clock, Salvo came in to announce that lunch was ready for serving. Therefore, they moved to the other side of the expansive room and took their seats around the table. Salvo arrived with the fresh _Caprese_ salad with buffalo mozzarella and _datterini_ tomatoes, enriched with fleshy Elban olives. As drinks, they had white wine and water.

They lunched chitchatting cheerfully, as everybody felt in good spirits. Raffaella and Jerry did everything to make Richard feeling at home, and he appreciated it enormously. As a dessert, Salvo brought a strawberry salad to the table, in honour of Nives who was crazy about this kind of berry; it was flavoured with true Modena balsamic vinegar and this amazed Richard, because he had never heard of such a match. As curious and open-minded as ever, he didn’t hesitate to taste it; he liked it enough, but he confessed he preferred the classic white wine.

At the end, they had a chilled coffee shake and then Richard asked if he could meet the cook, therefore the waiter went to call his mother. Marcella came and shook hands with the famous British actor in a very casual way, as she, unlike her son, didn’t know him at all. Richard rose politely and complimented her for the food, with Nives translating.

“Thank you, Mr Richard, I’m glad you enjoyed my _Caprese_ ”, the woman smiled, very flattered, then she turned to Nives and winked. “My dear, you have excellent taste in men!”

Nives chuckled, nodding, as the cook left them with a parting nod to go back to her job.

“What did she say?” Richard asked, unsure if he had gotten it right: his Italian was still too poor. She told him. “Oh!” he muttered, sceptically: as usual, he underestimated the power of his charm. Nives scowled, therefore he curled his lips into his adorable smirk, waving his hand in a yielding gesture.

“Would you like to visit the house?” Raffaella intervened, talking to Richard.

“Gladly”, he answered.

As the actor had already seen the kitchen, they left it out of the _sightseeing_ , as Raffaella wittily called it. Besides the expansive room used as living and dining room, opening onto the large terrace overlooking the sea, on the ground floor there was a library with a ceiling projector to enjoy movies in high definition on a screen that unrolled from the top of one of the bookcases, almost like a mini-theatre. Next to the library, Jerry had his small office, and into another room, he kept all of his professional archer equipment. Raffaella’s office was also on the ground floor.

On the upper floors, they visited the bedrooms with their bathrooms, each one containing a bathtub and a walk-in shower.

When they finished, they returned to the ground floor and headed for the terrace; the outlook struck Richard.

“Spectacular”, he declared enthusiastically. “You live in a really great place!”

“That’s exactly what I told Raffaella the first time”, Jerry commented, smiling. “And it was the very moment I realised I wanted to move in here permanently.”

“Ha, so you did it for the panorama, not for me?!” Raffaella cried, feigning indignation. Jerry grinned.

“Of course, what else?” he countered gleefully.

They all burst into laughter at the joke, then Jerry showed their guests his new shooting range.

“If you like, Richard, I can give you a few archery lessons”, he offered.

“I must tell you, I’m really bad with a bow”, the Englishman warned him. “As we were filming _The Hobbit_ , I even hit the ceiling of the shed where we trained”, he added, laughing. “Anyway yes, I’d love to have archery classes with a world champion”, he concluded.

“So we have a deal”, Jerry nodded pleased. “Now it’s too hot, but we could try one morning, when it’s cooler.”

“Sure!”

They went back into the house.

“What about spending the afternoon by the pool?” Raffaella suggested. “We can relax on the sunbeds, and if it’s too hot, we can dive and cool down.”

“Excellent idea”, Nives approved at once.

“I’ll need to stay in the shade”, said Richard regretfully. “I get sunburned like nothing, despite any sunblock cream.”

“No problem”, Jerry heartened him. “The sunbeds are covered with a canopy, so you’ll just need to pull the curtain to shade the spot you’re going to lay down, while Nives can stay in the sun.”

They headed for their rooms to change into their swimwear, and then met again by the pool. It was truly hot, therefore the two couples lay down on their sunbeds and pulled the curtains, leaving the other ones open for air circulation, as a nice breeze was blowing from the sea. In spite of this, at a certain point they were all steaming hot and decided to dive. Contrary to general belief, it’s not particularly dangerous bathing while digesting, as long as one goes gradually into not too cold water. Therefore, as the sun of many days had warmed the water of the pool, there was no problem, and they had fun splashing about a little.

“Guys, what about relaxing in the Jacuzzi?” asked Jerry.

“Absolutely yes”, Nives accepted immediately. “I adore it!”

As Jerry went to turn on the whirlpool, which commands – out of safety reasons – where far away from the water, Raffaella, Nives and Richard moved to the round tub next to the pool. The water began bubbling and Jerry joined his wife on the seat across the other couple.

They relaxed for about half an hour, chatting pleasantly, then they left the Jacuzzi and, after drying themselves, lay down again on the sunbeds. Now the hottest hours of the day were over and Nives prepared to sunbathe, pulling the curtains accordingly around the bed.

“Want me to apply sunscreen on your back?” Richard asked Nives when she stretched out next to him.

“Thank you”, she accepted, handing him the lotion; she turned on her belly and unfastened her bra.

“Oh, you’re going topless..?” he asked casually, unscrewing the bottle.

“No, that’s only for you”, Nives answered, turning her face to wink at him. “It’s just that I don’t like the white strip that the bra would leave on my back.”

“I’m not jealous, love”, Richard reassured her, starting to apply the sunscreen on her shoulders.

“It’s not about jealousy, but about modesty”, Nives admitted. “Probably you can call it an _excess_ of modesty. In my whole life, I took off my bra publicly only once, at D’Es Trenc Beach in Majorca, because it was a double-use beach, meaning that naturists too could stay there. All the women where either topless or naked and I felt _out of place_ , so…” she shrugged. “But I must say that bathing _tits out_ was wonderful, the sensation of water sliding on your skin without any hindrance is fantastic. You men have no idea about how lucky you are that you can be shirtless with no problems at all”, she finished laughing.

“Definitely not”, the actor agreed, still applying the sunscreen. “But nowadays, no one feels scandalised about topless women, except prudes, and surely I’m not one of them, not with my job. In short, feel free to do as you like best, topless or not”, he concluded, placing a tender kiss on her shoulder. “Mmmhhh, you smell of coconut, makes me want to bite you…” and saying so, he nibbled at her skin.

“Hey, you’re truly insatiable!” she cried in a feigned tone of reproach.

“With you, always”, Richard candidly admitted, chortling. Then, he withdrew and applied on himself his sunblock cream, and finally, he put his Ray-ban sunglasses on and lay down on his back, next to Nives.

In the late afternoon, Marcella and Salvo came back suitably on time to prepare dinner. From the following day, they would come only for the evening meal, while hosts and guests would take care of breakfast and lunch. Raffaella and Jerry liked it this way, when Nives came visiting, to compensate for the fact that Marcella and Salvo in those two weeks worked on Sundays too, which normally would be their day off.

In order to accompany the Vespaiolo wine that Nives had brought, the cook prepared baked salmon fillets with a colourful mixed salad of lettuce, corn salad, arugula, yellow peppers and cherry tomatoes, a savoury dish that was greatly appreciated, as well as the wine.

They had dinner under the gazebo, in the cool Elban evening. When they finished, Salvo asked if they wished something to drink before he and his mother went away, but Raffaella didn’t want to keep them longer than their regular time. Therefore, believing the four of them could well manage alone, she told him he and his mother were free to go, so the waiter took his leave.

“What about a UNO game?” Raffaella then suggested.

“Oh yes, please!” approved Nives, who knew well that card game from the United States and had always much fun playing it. The men nodded their agreement, so Raffaella rose to get the cards.

“It would be nice having something cool to drink”, Richard suggested.

“What about beer?” Jerry asked and, seeing him nodding, he turned to Nives. “You too?”

“Of course! Do you have _London Porter_?”

Richard laughed, and seeing Jerry’s puzzled look, he explained. “Porter is the name of a character I portrayed.”

“My favourite so far”, Nives pointed out. “A sergeant of the British SAS.”

“Oh? Considering your passionate love for Tolkien, I thought your favourite Richard-character was Thorin”, said Jerry, surprised.

“I adore Thorin, who made me discover Richard and ultimately triggered off the whole sequence of events that took us to get together”, Nives admitted. “However, a man in uniform is steaming hot in my eyes”, she concluded with a chuckle and an impish glance at Richard: she remembered still very well their role-playing in Cortina. Richard countered her glance with a wink: he too remembered it well.

“Ah, I see”, Jerry said. “Sorry, I don’t have this Porter!” he concluded with an exaggeratedly wretched face.

“That’s okay, you’re forgiven!” Nives laughed, playing along.

“Is a blonde Peroni acceptable?”

“Of course!”

“I go fetch the beer, if you tell me where I can find it”, Richard offered.

“In the fridge down in the cellar”, answered Jerry. “I come with you, so we can grab some spare ones.”

“They’ll warm up…” Nives objected, because she hated lukewarm beer.

“We’ll use a cooler”, Jerry reassured her, and she showed him her upright thumb.

“I’ll go and get the glasses then”, she announced, as she knew where they were stored.

“Don’t forget the bottle-opener”, Jerry reminded her.

Soon enough, everybody was returning, with the cards, beers, bottle-opener and glasses. Nives took charge of pouring the blonde, foamy beverage following the rules she had learnt from her sommelier friends, Clara – who did her fingernails for London and now again for the holidays – and her husband Rolando, who were well acquainted with both wine and beer. Seeing her pouring the first bottle dividing into two glasses, Jerry asked her the reason, interested.

“The rule to pour beer correctly is to pour it all into a single vessel”, Nives explained. “If it’s a small bottle, you just need a glass of suitable capacity. If it’s a large bottle instead, like this one, you need a carafe, or you pour it into several glasses. You need to raise the yeasts deposited on the bottom, like this”, she moved circularly the bottle, where she had left two fingers of liquid, then finished pouring it out, again dividing it into both glasses. Finally, she repeated the sequence with the other bottle.

Richard followed her manoeuvres, fascinated.

“Think that I usually drink it directly from the bottle or the can”, he commented in a quizzical tone.

“Bad habit”, Nives declared firmly. “That way, the beer’s taste is irregular: more insipid at the beginning, when the yeasts are all on the bottom, and too sapid in the end, for the same reason.”

“Actually, I noticed it”, Richard admitted, pensively. “But I had never realised what the problem was.”

“With you, there’s always something new to learn!” Raffaella declared in admiration.

“Maybe in some fields”, Nives shrugged dismissively. “In others, it’s you teaching me. Like archery!” she concluded, casting Jerry a smile.

“Right!” Jerry returned her smile. “So you too are going to practice?” he asked, and seeing her nodding, he turned to Richard. “Know that Nives has a natural talent...”

“Yeah, of course!” she laughed. “Looking at you shooting is boring”, she then accused him. “Hit, hit, hit, always hit, not one miss. On the contrary, I shoot high, then low, then right, then left... If I hit the black ten times in all these years, it’s been by accident!”

“Well, at least you hit the target, not the ceiling!” Richard cried, and they all cracked up. “As not to incur the wrath of the shed’s owner, the hands immediately covered the hole with plaster... I never felt so embarrassed!” he concluded, shaking his head, self-amused with his own clumsiness. (****)

After the hilarious moment, they toasted with the beer and then Raffaella took the pack, beginning to deal the cards. In the following hour, the four of them had a lot of fun, with turn-ups, yells of _UNO_ at the wrong moment and hysterical hoots. Jerry was the one who won the most, while Raffaella was unable to win even one single game.

“I suck, truly!” she commented in the end, laughing.

“You’ll get it next time”, Nives consoled her; she herself had won just one game.

At that point, they decided to go to sleep. They tidied up the table, tossed the bottles – after rinsing them – into the dedicated trash container, and then washed and put away the glasses. Finally, they headed upstairs to their rooms and prepared to go to bed.

“It’s been a truly beautiful day”, Richard commented as he slipped between the sheets with Nives. “Your friends are really affable. They made me feel like family.”

Nives snuggled up to him.

“It’s their forte, especially Raffaella’s”, she commented; in her voice, the affection for her friend was plain. “I’m so glad to be here with you...” she added in a low voice, raising her face to look at him. Richard returned her gaze.

“And I’m glad to be here with you”, he murmured, and then he kissed her. Kiss after kiss, soon they were making love, flying towards their personal paradise. Afterwards, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

(*) I love you so much, my sweet Italian girl.

(**) And I love you as much, my handsome British boy.

(***) Vespaiolo could roughly translate as “Wasper”

(****) Real fact that occurred during the training for _The Hobbit_.


	7. Chapter VII: Tuesday, August 11th, 2015

**Chapter VII: Tuesday, August 11 th, 2015**

The next morning, as agreed they met for breakfast. Jerry cooked two American-style breakfast for himself and for Richard, with scrambled eggs, pancakes topped with honey, cereals, toasts and coffee. Raffaella and Nives instead favoured the classic Italian breakfast with _cappuccino_ and cookies. Nives loved English and American breakfast, but she couldn’t hope to evade a dramatic increase in her weight should she have it every morning, except giving up lunch, and she didn’t want to do that. As for Raffaella, she had never been able to get used to this type of breakfast, and just got sometimes a slice or two of toasted bread with jam instead of cookies.

As they ate in the open, under the gazebo, Raffaella turned to Richard. “On the 15th of August – the feast of Assumption in Italy – we always throw a party here at Altariva Estate, for our employees and for those of the riding school, and their families.”

“Yeah, Nives told me”, Richard nodded. He had been a little reluctant, as he wasn’t a great socialiser, but Nives had told him it would feel like family, as the staffs of both activities all knew each other and many were also related to each other, and this had reassured him. “I’m no actual partygoer”, he wanted anyway to clarify in an apologetic tone. “But I won’t let you down”, he looked at his fiancée with his trademark smirk. “Nives told me great things about this party: a rich buffet of local products, music and even fireworks.”

“Precisely!” Jerry intervened. “I take care of them personally, I really enjoy it and I took a course to handle them safely.”

“Well done, safety is never enough”, Richard commented.

Nives had informed Raffaella about Richard’s aversion for parties and therefore the Roman woman was very happy to hear he was glad to attend.

“I know you’re a very private person, but nobody will bother you or gossip around about your presence here”, she assured him. “Anyway, should any nosy people or journalists come, this is private property and we’d have them kicked out in no time”, she concluded with unusual ferocity. She felt very protective of her dear friend Nives’ fiancé, as she was anyway also for Nives herself.

“I could give a free kung fu lesson to the possible intruders”, Nives declared in a not-too-much humorous tone. Jerry chuckled.

“Never anger these two ladies”, he commented.

“Yeah”, Raffaella nodded. “Like all quiet people, when we get upset, we do some serious damage.”

“Like me”, mumbled Richard, who was the quietest among them and had rarely tantrums; but he was aware that, when it occurred, he looked really frightening, because of both his physical impressiveness and his voice, the latter turning even deeper.

Raffaella smiled to lighten the fleeting moment of tension.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, Rich”, she said.

“Ah, no doubts about that!” he commented cheerfully, sensing her slight anxiety: it meant a lot to her making her guests feel at ease.

Reassured, Raffaella went on. “In the morning of the party day, there will be some commotion, because workers are coming to assemble the dancing board and the music cabin. Besides, the catering too is coming with tables, chairs, gazebos, while for food and drinks they’ll return in the evening, when they’ll start their service. Therefore, I will neglect you a little to supervise things; but it won’t take too long, surely no more than a couple of hours. Jerry will keep you company.”

“I tried to help her”, the archer interjected. “But Raffi wants to do it all by herself.”

“Ha, darlin’, you tend to mess up things”, the Roman woman laughed.

“Guilty as charged, Your Honour”, Jerry admitted, laughing in turn. “Therefore, to stay out of her way, I usually go taking a ride. You guys can both come with me, or stay by the pool, as you like it better.”

“I won’t mind a ride”, Nives admitted. Years before, she had taken Western-style riding classes, which she brushed up every time she came to Elba, but she would never be an accomplished rider, both for lack of exercise and because, after all, she had no true passion, as she had told Richard.

“I adore riding”, the Brit smiled. “I even purchased the mare they gave me for _The Hobbit_ , Lippy”, he told Raffaella and Jerry. “It was love at first sight, between the two of us.”

“Shall I be jealous?” Nives grumbled, glowering so blatantly that everyone chortled.

“Where will we go?” Richard enquired.

“At a five minute drive from here, there’s a riding school”, Raffaella answered. “It’s called _La Costa dei Gabbiani,_ meaning _The Shore of Seagulls_ in English, and the director is the first friend ever I made in Elba, right after my arrival. His name’s Giorgio and he’s a fantastic instructor. He wanted to open a riding school all of his own, but he didn’t know where to go. I’m a little scared of horses, but seeing his love and enthusiasm, I thought _why not? Let’s diversify activities!_ It’s always a good idea in business, isn’t it? Hence, we set up a company: I put in the grounds and a little money, and he the rest of the capital and the building of the school. He began alone with his wife Laura, as she too is a fine instructor, and now they have five employees and a bar kiosk. They come from all around the isle to ride here”, Raffaella concluded with just satisfaction.

“You need to know that Raffi bought me a horse”, Jerry announced at this point. “A _paint_ with cerulean eyes named Sky.”

“Whoa, that’s a great gift: it’s one of the finest American horses”, Richard considered. “And blue eyes are very rare.”

“I had no idea”, Raffaella admitted. “I chose him just because that’s Jerry’s same eye colour”, she looked at her husband with apparent love. “I wanted a special present for a special man.”

Jerry returned her gaze, then he bent over and kissed her lips.

“I don’t know if I’m _special_ , but sure enough, I’m _lucky_ ”, he declared. Richard turned to look at Nives, a slight smile curling his lips.

“Me too”, he stated, bending towards her to kiss her lightly. Considering he was a very private person in the presence of strangers, this was an unusual gesture for him; but with Nives’ friends he felt at ease as if he had known them for a long, long time.

After the tender moment with their respective partners, Jerry turned again to Richard.

“I should keep getting to know Sky better”, he said. “If you and Nives agree, we could go together to the riding school this morning.”

“Gladly”, the actor agreed.

“Very well”, Raffaella approved. “So I can take the opportunity to go to Capoliveri and collect a painting”, she looked at her guests. “I commissioned an oil on canvas of the view from our terrace to a local artist, a female painter whom I really like”, she explained. “This morning I found her e-mail informing me it’s ready.”

Jerry nodded, then he turned to Nives. “Nives, do you plan to take Richard visiting something? Any beaches, perhaps?”

“Richard isn’t much for beaches and sea”, she answered. “However, despite this he accepted to come here at Elba, because he knows how much I instead love both.”

The disclosure gained the British actor approving glances from Jerry and Raffaella.

“Well, after all Nives came to Cortina last winter, though she doesn’t like snow and skiing. I simply thought it was fair returning the favour”, Richard explained.

“That’s not granted, in a relationship”, Raffaella commented. “Once I had a boyfriend who decided he alone where we had to go and what we had to do. I left him after three months”, she concluded grinning.

“You’ve been too kind: I would’ve left him after three _days_!” Jerry cried in such a melodramatic grim way, that the others laughed.

“Anyway, to answer your question, yeah”, Nives said when the hilarious moment was over. “I thought about the two Napoleonic mansions.”

“They’re a must for those visiting the island”, Raffaella approved. “But if Rich doesn’t like the sea, what shall we do with our customary excursion to Cavoli?”

“We usually go for a day of snorkelling”, Nives explained to Richard, looking at him a bit sorry. “But we can do without it...”

“Are you kidding?” Richard interrupted her. “I won’t allow my aversion for swimming to prevent you from doing something you like. I’ll come with you, though I won’t bathe and I’ll just settle for looking and shooting pictures”, he concluded, shrugging.

When he had been informed about Richard’s problem with deep water, Jerry had thought about an alternative.

“Or else, you and I could go for a ride”, he suggested, as he had already talked with Raffaella about it.

Richard considered this for a minute.

“Thanks, Jerry, but no: when I’m with Nives, I prefer to spend as much time as possible with her.”

The American man liked his answer, because he, in his new friend’s shoes, would do likewise, and therefore he nodded to him.

Richard’s answer thrilled Nives greatly and she gave him a grateful beam. She would have hated giving up the annual trip to the granitic rocks of Cavoli and diving in the incredibly pristine waters of that charming corner of Elba, but she would have hated even more giving up Richard’s company, though for just a few hours, exactly as he had just stated.

When they finished eating, they put the tableware into the dishwasher and then prepared to go out. Richard, knowing he would have the chance to ride, had brought his informal riding attire, made of tight blue pants and white t-shirt, as well as cap and knee-high boots. Nives, who had no dedicated outfit, donned jeans, a lilac sleeveless shirt and short boots, and a baseball cap, dark blue with a golden yellow embroidery saying _NCC-36100 Palladium_.

“What does that writing mean?” Richard asked, intrigued, pointing to her cap as they went downstairs. “It looks like a _Star Trek_ spaceship’s name.”

“Exactly!” Nives confirmed with a beam. “That’s the name of the Vicenza trekkers’ group affiliated with the Star Trek Italian Club. Fulvia and Max too are part of this club. We named our _spaceship_ after Andrea Palladio, a great architect from Padua whose best-known works are located in Vicenza. I’ll show them to you, when you’ll come visiting me next time...”

Meanwhile, they had come downstairs, where they found Raffaella and Jerry. The latter looked like a modern cowboy, complete with a Stetson straw hat, western shirt with rolled up sleeves and quite worn out leather ankle boots. Raffaella instead wore a fresh white cotton dress highlighting her tan.

“See you later” she told her husband, pressing a kiss on his lips. “Have fun!” she added, waving her hand to them and heading for the door.

“Let’s take my car”, Jerry suggested. They climbed on his Stelvio and a few minutes later, they were at the riding school; here, they found Giorgio busy with currying one of the _appaloosa_ horses.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Armitage”, he said in an excellent English when they introduced the British actor to him, giving him his broad and calloused hand. “Nice to see you again, Nives”, he then added, smiling and shaking hands with her too.

“My pleasure, Giorgio. How’s your family doing?” she asked.

“Fine, thanks! You’re going for a ride, I think” he said, guessing it from their attire.

“Yep”, Jerry confirmed. “Could you please saddle Lucky Star for Nives? And I was thinking about Titano for Richard.”

“So, we have an English riding system”, Giorgio commented. “I’d say he’s suitable for Mr Armitage, given his height”, he added, nodding. “I’ll prepare the horses at once.”

“I do for Sky myself”, Jerry hastily said, once more wanting to get the horse used to him.

As Jerry and Giorgio entered the stables to go and get the mounts, Nives took Richard for a short visit of the riding school, showing him the paddock where the beginner practiced and the bar kiosk.

About fifteen minutes later, Jerry appeared on the threshold of the stables, leading Sky; seeing him, Richard and Nives crossed over to him and expressed their admiration for the lovely _paint_ who, very affably, allowed them to caress him.

Giorgio arrived soon afterwards with the mounts for Nives and Richard. Nives approached Lucky Star, the gentle _quarter horse_ mare she always rode when she came to the riding school, and she reached for her to caress her muzzle; the mare recognised her and snorted a greeting, letting Nives touching her and even lowering her neck for a better contact.

In the meantime, Richard was getting to know Titano, a magnificent specimen of Maremmano horse with a dark coat, exceptionally big and surely suited to the actor’s height. The stallion, used to be ridden by strangers, showed no uneasiness, even more so that the Brit knew exactly how to treat horses. Giorgio’s only recommendation was not to pull the bridles too hard as not to hit Titano in the mouth, or else the horse would get nervous.

A few minutes later they were mounted. Nives, unable to get into the saddle alone, had refused Richard’s help and chosen to use the dedicated ladder, feeling more at ease to do it alone rather than having someone lifting her. She shook the bridles a little clumsily, and the mare obediently walked up to the other two horses.

“How does he behave?” Richard was asking Jerry, meaning Sky.

“He’s very well trained”, the American man informed him. “Lively but disciplined”, he saw Nives arriving. “Richard, do you mind taking up the rear? So we’ll keep Nives between the two of us.”

It was a way to make her feel safer, as it was, after all, her first ride after one year. Richard nodded in agreement and so off they went, riding slowly along the dirt track leading to Mount Ginevro. After about ten minutes, Jerry turned.

“Ready for a light trot?” he asked Nives.

“Yeah...”

“Okay, and afterwards we’ll pick up the pace to a full trot, and then, if you feel like, we can also gallop a little.”

“Let’s see how I manage”, Nives said. “I always feel a klutz, when I start again riding...”

“Riding is like cycling”, Richard affirmed, as he had heard the exchange. “Once you’ve learned it, you’ll never forget how to do it.”

“That’s true”, she confirmed. “My yoga master calls it _body memory_ and says it’s stronger than the mind memory, because the mind can forget, whereas the body doesn’t.”

They then started to trot, slowly at the beginning, than faster. When they reached a wide flat ground, with no trees, Jerry made them stop.

“Do you mind if I spur Sky into a full gallop for a few minutes?” he asked.

“No problem”, Richard answered. “Meanwhile, Nives and I can go for a leisure walk.”

Jerry thanked them with a beam and then he spurred on his horse, galloping off. Nives watched him and pulled a face.

“I doubt I’ll ever ride with the ease you two show: time and patience are required, but one needs especially passion, and I haven’t it. Though I think riding is nice, it isn’t an activity I would devote much energy to learn...” she looked at Richard apologetically. “I’m sorry...”

“Hey, we cannot always have the same tastes”, he said, very wisely. “Like skiing, for instance... but there are instead so many other things that we both _do_ like, I wouldn’t worry about two or three we don’t share. On the contrary, it’s a good thing, so each one has their own things to enjoy.”

“You’re right, it’s equally important to have your own space”, Nives agreed; in her opinion, one of the mistakes she had made when she was married was that she did only the things that also her husband liked doing, but she never did what only she liked, while he instead did it. It wasn’t fair, but at that time she hadn’t realised it.

They started again, walking at the beginning, then once more trotting. Richard taught her how better understand the way she had to rhythmically rise and sit back again on the saddle and, after a few attempts, she put it into practice.

“You’re a natural at riding”, Richard complimented her.

“Jerry too told me that” Nives smiled, flattered.

“Really?” asked Richard. “Are you sure that you won’t develop a passion for riding...?” he added, smiling. Nives cast him a _very_ naughty glance.

“Actually, I much prefer riding _you_...” she smirked.

The Brit’s eyes sparkled.

“Careful, baby”, he countered. “I could pull you out of the saddle and carry you behind those shrubs to make _that_ type of ride at once...”

Nives felt hot at the thought of making love with Richard in the nature, but like at the circle of beeches on the slopes of Mount Summano, the fear that someone could catch them held her back. Then, she recalled the expansive garden of her friends’ villa and her throat went dry as she depicted in her mind their lovemaking there. She had expressly purchased a long green summer gown to don and _perform_ Nerwen, strolling in that same garden with Richard playing Aryon, but she never thought about making love there with him.

Until this moment.

She had to talk about it with Raffaella and agree upon a time when her friend and Jerry would give them the needed privacy...

“From your face, I’d daresay your thinking about something _very_ impish”, Richard went on, looking slyly at her.

Nives chuckled. “You’re right… but I won’t tell you, it’s a surprise.”

“Hum, shall I begin to worry...?”

She burst into laughter. “You won’t get me to talk, my handsome British boy, deal with it!”

“Oh, okay then...” he grumbled; he bent over to her and caressed her arm. “I love you madly, you know that, do you?”

Nives’ eyes shone as she gave him a bright smile. “And I love _you_ as much...”

At that moment, Jerry came back and joined them.

“Would you go for a run with Titano?” he asked, looking at Richard. “I’ll stay with Nives.”

Richard nodded and, casting a beam to Nives, he spurred on the Maremmano, who jumped forward and propelled himself into a fast gallop. Nives watched them, admiring the British actor’s impeccable style.

“Are you having fun?” Jerry asked her.

“I am!” she nodded. “Though I haven’t your same passion, I enjoy riding.”

The archer watched her closely. “You’re moving on the saddle much better than before...”

“Thanks to Richard, he explained to me how to do it”, of course, talking about it distracted her and she fell back on the saddle too heavily, “Ugh! I need to work on that...”

Jerry laughed. “Don’t worry! No one was born a master, as you say in Italian. With practice, you too will learn, like driving a car: at the beginning it’s difficult to keep everything in mind, but then it comes naturally, with no need of thinking about it. Same for riding.”

They continued trotting and chatting for about ten minutes, watching Richard leading Titano at a gallop around and across the expansive open space.

“I want to try galloping again as soon as possible”, Nives declared decisively. “It’s so much fun!” she smiled at a hilarious memory. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I galloped?”

Jerry shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you remember I told you that, years ago, I had a few Western-style classes?” Jerry nodded in confirmation. “Well, after half a dozen lessons in the paddock, we began going out walking and the second time, the mare – I remember her name was Duchessa and that she had a white coat, but I don’t know what breed she was – got excited about something and started into a gallop.”

“Were you scared?”

“Just a little and for only a few moments, then I realised it was even easier than trotting and I enjoyed the ride, but it lasted maybe one minute because the instructor, very concerned, ran after me and stopped Duchessa... Then, when he saw that I wasn’t scared, he was glad, but told me that I needed a little more practice before repeating the experience. Too bad that I couldn’t, because I had to stop taking lessons”, she concluded with a unhappy face. “If I had had few more classes, now I would be less a bother to you guys...”

“Don’t even say that!” Jerry rebuked her. “You’re no bother, keeping you company is a pleasure: are we friends or are we not?” he concluded with a broad smile. Nives returned it and thought that, after Richard, Jerry had the most beautiful smile in the world. She understood completely how Raffaella had lost her head for him to the point of marrying him after just six months from their first encounter.

They started, slowly at the beginning, then trotting, with Nives doing her best to move in the saddle in the correct way.

“Nives, did you know it, that Raffi was planning to purchase a horse for me?” Jerry asked her suddenly. She smiled.

“Of course I knew!” she confirmed. “Since when she began thinking about it!”

“I guessed that! Well, surely enough, it was an extraordinary surprise... as extraordinary is the woman who gave it to me”, Jerry smiled in a very sweet way. “Y’ know, before meeting Raffi, I didn’t believe I could love someone so much...”

“And Raffi loves you as much”, Nives told him. “Like I love Richard...”

“And he loves you as much”, Jerry affirmed, deliberately repeating her words. “I see how he looks at you. I’m truly very happy for you. I saw how much your loneliness saddened you, while now you’re radiant.”

In confirmation, Nives’ smile became as bright as the sun.

“You know, I’m still thinking it’s a dream”, she admitted. “ _A fangirl’s dream_ , I called it”, her smile dropped visibly. “I can’t get completely rid of the fear I might wake up and find myself into a reality where Richard and I aren’t together...”

“Don’t even think about it! I’m going to pinch you right now, so you’ll realise it’s all true and real”, Jerry used a humorous tone to lighten his friend’s mood. He loved her almost as much as he loved his sisters and couldn’t bear to see her troubled. He saw Nives’ smile broadening again and was pleased.

At that moment, Richard joined them and stopped Titano; horse and rider looked very satisfied. 

“Shall we go back?” Jerry suggested. “It’s getting hotter by the minute…”

Both Richard and Nives agreed: though it was not even 10.30 a.m., the temperature was already high, announcing another fiery day of this torrid summer.

As they returned to the stables, Giorgio insisted that they should leave the horses to him and his assistants.

“Take care of your guests”, he invited Jerry, smiling. “You mustn’t neglect them.”

Though he had planned to groom Sky personally, to deepen their mutual understanding, Jerry accepted the offer gratefully.

Nives and Richard paid for the rental of the horses, then climbed with Jerry into his car and got back home, where they found Raffaella, who had already returned from Capoliveri. She showed them the canvas she had collected, a view of the sea from the terrace of Villa d’Altariva, in the foreground a flowering prickly pear.

“Beautiful colours!” Nives cried. “You can see that the painter is a positive person.”

“She is”, Raffaella confirmed. “That’s why I commissioned her this painting. I hate dull colours, whatever the subject.”

“I agree”, said Richard. “And though some are considered masterpieces, I don’t like still-life portraits. I much prefer landscapes with vivid colours like these ones.”

“Do you know that Richard performed Claude Monet in a TV miniseries?” Jerry interjected.

“Of course I know”, Raffaella confirmed. “Nives told me. Incidentally, her favourite painter!”

“An incredible coincidence”, Nives commented, beaming at Richard. “But I didn’t like that goat-beard you sported the whole time, at all!”

Richard laughed aloud. “I confess I, too, didn’t like it! Think what sacrifices a poor actor has to make for the love of his art...”

His tone was so comically tragic that everybody burst out laughing.

“I’m taking a shower to freshen up”, Nives then announced. “Afterwards I’d like to go for a dive in the pool, are you in?”

They all accepted, and twenty minutes later they met again in the garden.

Both couples lay down on one of the canopied sunbeds placed on the opposite sides of the pool: Raffaella had positioned them this way so that each couple could have some level of privacy simply drawing a curtain. Raffaella had been very explicit with Nives: she and Richard could do whatever they wanted wherever they wanted, in the house, in the garden, in the pool, they just needed to agree on time and place so that one couple wouldn’t inadvertently _stumble_ upon the other one while an _outpouring of feelings_ was happening. And of course they had to mind Salvo and Marcella after 6 p.m., when they arrived to cook for dinner and tidy up the villa a little.

“Do you want me to apply sunscreen on your back?” Richard asked Nives as she lay next to him.

“Thank you”, she accepted, handing him the cream, then she turned on her belly and unfastened her bra.

“You’re going topless?” he enquired, unscrewing the bottle.

“Nope”, Nives answered. “That’s for your eyes only... It’s just that I don’t like the mark of the bra on my back.”

“Hey, I’m not jealous of Jerry”, Richard reassured her, starting to apply the cream on her shoulders. “And I hope you’re not jealous of Raffi.”

“It’s not about jealousy, but about modesty”, Nives admitted. “Probably you can call it an _excess_ of modesty. In my whole life, I took off my bra just once, in Majorca, on the beach of D’Es Trenc, because also naturist could stay there. The women were all either topless or naked and I felt _out of place_ , therefore...” she shrugged. “I must admit that bathing _tits out_ was amazing: the sensation of the water slipping unhindered on my body was fantastic. You men have no idea about what that means”, she concluded laughing.

“Definitely not”, the actor agreed, still applying the cream. “But nowadays, nobody’s shocked about a topless woman, except prudes, and I’m not one of them, not with my job. In short: feel free to do whatever you like, topless or not”, he concluded, placing a tender kiss on her shoulder. “Mmmh, you smell like coconut, makes me want to bite you...” and saying that, he nibbled at her skin.

“Hey, you’re truly insatiable!” she cried, faking a reproaching tone.

“With you, always”, Richard admitted candidly, grinning. Then, he withdrew and applied his total sunblock on himself – as a genuine Brit, he had a very fair and delicate skin – and finally, after putting on his Ray-ban glasses, he stretched out on his back next to Nives.

Later, they had lunch. Nives asked for a large salad and Raffaella accommodated her, helping her to create a very colourful one with lamb’s lettuce, arugula, yellow peppers and cherry tomatoes, to which they added the delicious Elban olives and feta cheese cubes, the famous Greek sheep’s cheese that Nives had come to love during a holiday in Crete. The men instead made themselves rich sandwiches with _schiaccia_ – the local salted flatbread – stuffed with succulent slices of roasted suckling pig and nothing else, as not to superimpose too many tastes and therefore ruin the overall effect. Because of the heat, they chose to avoid alcohol and drank fruit juices instead.

Immediately after lunch, Raffaella and Jerry excused themselves, as they had to dedicate a couple of hours to their job. They returned earlier than expected and spent the rest of the afternoon with their guests, lounging in the shade of the canopies and paddling in the pool.

For dinner, Marcella prepared risotto with cuttlefish ink in the spicy Elban version. Richard was surprised, because he had never seen a black risotto. He was nonetheless enthusiastic, as he was later of the dessert, again a local product: the _schiaccia briaca_ (*), that is, the sweet variation of the flatbread he had had at lunch, of a dark pink colour because the dough contained the Elban red sweet wine Aleatico, as well as chopped walnuts, hazelnuts and almonds, and pine nuts on the surface. Of course, the cake came with a small glass of Aleatico.

“What about a trip to Capoliveri, tomorrow morning?” Raffaella suggested to Nives. It was their habit to shop at least once in the charming little Elban town – many considered it the most beautiful of the whole island – where one could find both luxury shops like Gucci or Bulgari and small local stores and craft workshops.

“Of course!” Nives accepted immediately. “Richard, you too should come: it’s a stunning medieval town worth a visit. You can also find a few nice souvenirs to take home, and even a present for your mother.”

She remembered that in Venice, too, he had purchased a gift for her, like the affectionate son he was.

“Yes, gladly”, the Brit agreed.

“Okay, then I’ll join in”, Jerry declared. “Best if we start early, both to avoid the crowd and the heat. At nine o’clock would be good?”

“I’m a morning person”, Richard informed him. “Just like Nives.”

“Then we all are”, Raffaella laughed. “Jerry and me, too. So I’d say that nine o’clock is perfect to start. We’ll need around twenty minutes to get there.”

“And getting there early, we’ll be able to park comfortably in town, or else there’s a quite long walk”, Jerry added.

“Do you like seafood, Rich?” Raffaella enquired.

“Yeah, very.”

“Then we could go to lunch at Galvano’s _La Lampara_ , does that sound good?”

“Absolutely!” Nives accepted enthusiastically. “That’s one of the best seafood restaurants of Elba”, she then added for Richard.

“That’s okay for me, but on one condition”, the actor said with an earnest face.

“What would that be?” Jerry urged him, slightly worried.

“You allow me to buy it”, seeing that his hosts were about to protest, he raised one hand to prevent them. “I won’t take a no for an answer: I’m your guest, allow me to buy you at least lunch when we go out!”

“To be honest, Nives does it too”, Raffaella admitted smiling.

“And I’ll do that this time, too”, Nives declared. “A nice dinner at the _Drago di Mare_ (**) at Morcone, as usual”, she looked at Richard. “A very romantic place, overlooking the sea...”

Her voice trailed off and she smiled to hide the overflow of emotion that had taken her without warning: she had dreamt so many times, during the years as forced single, to go there with the man she loved... and at last, this year she would do it. With Richard Armitage, no less, her dream-love...

Richard perceived the stir in her emotions and, though he didn’t immediately realise the reason for her it, his heart flew out to her. Then, he grasped it: she had said it was a very romantic place, and knowing how much her protracted sentimental loneliness had affected her, he guessed she had yearned to go there with a partner. He took her hand and tenderly caressed her fingers, letting her see his understanding. Nives’ eyes glistened with tears of happiness and she blinked them quickly back.

“What about some more UNO games?” she suggested, changing the subject in order to overcome the turmoil of her feelings.

Jerry and Raffaella, who hadn’t missed the meaning of the exchange between the other two, looked at each other smiling.

“Yes, please!” Raffaella cried. “I want a rematch!”

And rematch she got, among much laughter and victorious yells, or disappointed ones, depending on how things were going.

At last, they went to bed, happy about the beautiful day.

(*) literal translation: drunken flatbread.

(**) Sea Dragon.


	8. Chapter VIII: Wednesday, August 12th, 2015

**Chapter VIII: Wednesday, August 12 th, 2015**

That morning, right after breakfast, they all climbed into Raffaella’s black Edge and headed for Capoliveri. Among the eight municipalities of Elba, it’s considered the most picturesque and romantic, with its medieval streets and the houses built on the hill dominating the western side of Stella Gulf. The main square ends with a panoramic terrace overlooking the gulf, offering a view that alone is worth a visit to the town.

Capoliveri was just ten kilometres away, but it was a winding road and the first stretch wasn’t paved, therefore Raffaella – though knowing each centimetre of the track – needed twenty minutes to get to the dirt parking lot where they had planned to leave the car. From here, they headed for Piazza Matteotti through more or less steep lanes passing between ancient houses and small craft shops and local-food stores.

The two couples walked hand in hand, Jerry and Raffaella on the lead, Nives and Richard in tail. The Brit was looking around, completely charmed.

“I feel like I travelled back in time”, he declared. “Are you sure we haven’t accidentally burst through the door of the Tardis?” he added in jest, meaning Doctor Who’s legendary phone booth.

Jerry laughed. “No, no, rest assured: we’re still in the Twenty-first Century and on planet Earth! But you’re right: here it truly looks like time stopped several centuries ago...” the trademark ringing of a Windows phone, probably in the jean pocket of the boy just coming across them, interrupted him. “Oh well, except for that!” he added, amused, and they chuckled.

Richard was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses to disguise himself, in the hope nobody would recognise and stop him along the streets. Elba inhabitants were used to VIP and celebrities walking around their island, therefore they were hardly intrusive; the tourists instead could be annoying. However, nobody pestered him as they walked; this wasn’t actually very surprising, considering that for his most famous role in Italy, Thorin Oakenshield, Richard had been so covered in prosthetics that he was almost unrecognisable.

They arrived to the square feeling already rather hot, though it was just a little over 9.30 a.m. For about one hour, they strolled leisurely here and there. There weren’t many people yet: most would arrive around noon, because many planned to have lunch in one of the suggestive local restaurants and only afterwards go for a shopping tour, whereas the four friends were doing exactly the opposite.

They entered into a few shops, because Nives wanted to buy a new bikini – she did it each year, taking advantage of the seasonal sales period – and Jerry was looking for a new pair of sneakers. He was a Nike-fan and purchased always this brand. Richard let himself be tempted by a pair of shoes by Lotto, a prestigious Italian brand, perforated and ultra light, perfect for the summer heat, and instantly adopted the Italian habit for the very short and therefore hidden socks called _fantasmini_ (*), suited to keep feet cooler. He didn’t like sandals, and the only concession was the plastic flip-flops he used for the pool.

At some point, they went down a staircase with low and very wide steps, leading to an arcade; here began a narrow lane, lined with many craft shops. Glancing at the sign showing the name of the street, Nives giggled.

“I roll the dice!” she announced, and Raffaella laughed aloud. Richard looked confused at both women.

“She’s referring to the Monopoly board”, Jerry explained. “In the Italian version, one of the squares is called _Vicolo Corto_ , meaning Short Lane.”

Richard read the inscription _Vicolo Lungo_ , or Long Lane, and he got it. He nodded, amused.

“We often had Monopoly nights at home”, he disclosed. “But I think I haven’t played it for at least twenty years.”

“A couple of months ago, I got an Avengers version directly from the U.S. In this saga, my favourite character is, obviously enough, Hawkeye. We can play it one night, if you feel like, but I warn you: Nives is unbeatable!”

“That’s not really true”, she contradicted him. “Once you bankrupted me in just half an hour!”

“It happened only once”, Jerry protested. “As for the rest, you always end up beating both me and Raffi.”

Meanwhile, they had reached a ceramic store and Richard stopped in front of the window, fascinated.

“Did you see something of your liking?” Raffaella asked. “Come on, let’s go inside. I know the owner; she’s also the artist producing the ceramics.”

“Tell me who you do _not_ know, in Capoliveri: that would be faster”, Nives teased her, following her inside of the shop, which was empty now. Her friend laughed, and then spoke to the clerk behind the desk.

“ _Ciao_ , Renato, is your mother here?” she asked.

“ _Ciao_ , Raffaella! Yes, I’ll get her at once”, he kid answered, smiling. Richard took off his sunglasses and hung them on the neckline of his t-shirt, but kept the cap.

A minute later, Renato came back with a dark-haired woman, approximatively forty years old, wearing a waterproof apron with several stains of various colours. She tossed a pair of disposable gloves into a bin – she apparently used them while painting her ceramics – and crossed over to them with a smile.

“Jerry, Raffaella, how nice to see you! And Nives!” she cried, shaking hands with the latter. “You look great, my dear!” she declared, then she looked quizzically to the handsome man with striking blue eyes accompanying the three people she knew.

“Cristina, this is Richard. Richard, Cristina”, Nives introduced them quickly in English. The actor shook hands with the ceramist.

“Nice to meet you”, he said in Italian.

“Nice to meet you”, she replied in the same tongue. She tilted her head sideways and watched him closely. “I never forget a face”, she then said in English. “I’m sure I’ve seen you already, somewhere, but I cannot figure out where...”

“I’ll help you”, Raffaella interjected in a playful tone. “Picture him with a beard and very long hair, and a constantly cross face...”

Richard laughed at that description, and then frowned in a _Thorin-esque_ way. After a few more moments, Cristina’s eyes widened.

“Don’t tell me you’re Richard Armitage!” she cried.

“As I live and breathe”, he admitted.

“I can’t believe that Thorin Oakenshield is in my workshop!” she laughed. “I confess that, when Renato took me to see the first movie of _The Hobbit_ , I wasn’t convinced, as usually I don’t like fantasy. I had never watched _The Lord of the Rings_ either. But I changed my mind even before the end of the screening, thanks precisely to your character. A superb performance”, she concluded.

“Thank you, I’m flattered”, Richard declared in a humble tone that the ceramist appreciated greatly.

“If it’s not too much to ask, may I take a picture together with you and Nives? Otherwise, when I’ll boast that you came to my shop – of course only after you’ll leave Elba – nobody’s going to believe me... or perhaps they’ll think I was drunk!” she concluded laughing.

Her request was simply too kind and nice to refuse it, therefore Richard and Nives accepted gladly.

“Selfies look always awful”, Jerry observed. “Give me your mobile, I’ll take care of it”, he then offered. Cristina handed him her phone, then she gestured to her son to join them and the archer shot a couple of pictures.

“May I have a photo with Mr Armitage alone?” Renato then asked, rather shyly, in an almost impeccable English, as he studied it at the tourist institute of Portoferraio.

“Of course”, Richard immediately agreed. Jerry shot two pictures, then gave the mobile back to its owner.

“Thank you so much!” Cristina said, beaming. “I’ll get a few enlargements, my clients will go wild about this”, she laughed. “But let’s move on now... Are you here for a courtesy visit, or do you wish to buy something?” she enquired.

“The latter”, Raffaella answered. “I think that Richard has seen something interesting in the window.

“Yes, I have”, he confirmed. “That square plate with the sunflowers and the brown edge...”

Cristina nodded and removed it from the showcase.

“You can use it both as a fruit bowl and as a pocket emptier”, she said, showing it to him. “It’s a unique piece, like all my creations, except it’s a full set of some kind”, she explained, pointing to the coffee cups in the same cabinet.

Richard admired the plate, seeing it bore the signature of the artist and the creation date.

“I think my mother will appreciate it greatly”, he commented. “What do you say, Nives?”

“I agree”, she nodded. “Lovely warm colours.”

“True. I’ll have it”, the Brit decided, giving the piece back to Cristina.

“We’ll make you a nice gift pack then”, the ceramist offered. “Renato, will you take care of it?”

The kid rushed to work, wrapping the plate carefully in several sheets of tissue paper and placing it then into a coloured box, which he then decorated with a beautiful ribbon in contrast colour.

In the meantime, Richard had paid, thinking that the price was fair, especially considering it was a handmade and unique article.

They chitchatted amiably with Cristina and Renato for some more minutes, then a few people came into the shop and so they took their leave to let them work. It was almost noon, therefore Raffaella suggested an aperitif. They walked back and crossed the square to the Bar Controvento (**), where they sat under the sunshade. Soon enough, a waiter came to take their orders. He was an around eighteen-year-old kid with tattooed arms, several piercings in his ears and purple-dyed hair, but sporting a neat uniform: long black trousers, white shirt and a napkin on his arm.

“Good morning”, he said smiling to them, showing no trace of recognising Richard, who was now _camouflaged_ again. “What can I get for you?”

“Something local, Rich?” Jerry asked.

“Certainly”, the actor answered, always curious to try specialties.

“Four _Lady Bonsai_ ”, Jerry ordered.

“Very well”, the kid said, pleased that this customer knew the exclusive aperitif they offered, based on maracuja juice and white rum, then he took his leave with a nod.

“It’s nice not being recognised for a change!” Richard commented.

“Didn’t you like Cristina’s behaviour?” Raffaella asked, immediately worried.

“Absolutely not, she was discreet and kind”, the Brit reassured her. “I meant only that, every now and then, it feels relaxing to have a drink with friend as a perfect stranger. And enjoying the company of my fiancée with nobody sneakily shooting pics or a video to publish them on social media with thousands of comments”, he added, looking at Nives.

As usual, she felt a little uneasy hearing the word _fiancée_.

“It’s the price one pays for fame”, she commented, trying to overcome her discomfort and wondering if she ever would be able to do it for good. “I suffer from it only very lightly and it bothers me, I cannot imagine what it is for you...”

“You get used to it”, said Richard. “Well, more or less...” he added, thinking better.

The waiter returned with a tray, carrying four glasses with a long stem – the same used for the Venetian _spritz_ – full of a lime green beverage and decorated with a spectacular stick of sculpted fruit.

“A feast for the eyes”, Richard commented, struck.

“And for the palate too”, Nives stated delighted, after having the first sip through the drinking straw. “We have it each time we come here.”

Richard appreciated greatly the unusual aperitif. They chatted in peace for half an hour, until it was nearly the time Raffaella had booked the restaurant.

“My treat”, Jerry announced, rising.

“No way”, Richard contradicted him, rising in turn. “Today, you’re all my guests, including the aperitif.”

His tone was so firm that Jerry raised his hands in a yielding gesture, with a comical grimace that had the Brit grinning.

Seeing him trying to spot the cashier, Jerry signalled him to follow, leading him. When Richard handed his credit card to the clerk – a young blonde woman – she stared blankly at him for a minute, then she took the card and proceeded. Giving it back to him, her hand shook slightly.

“Autograph, please?” she asked in English, looking at him with a hesitant smile as if apologising for disturbing him. It was obvious that she had recognised him, but didn’t want to look intrusive.

“Sure!” Richard accepted immediately, smiling at her apparent shyness. She took a cardboard coaster and handed it to him, as she had nothing else for him to sign. He took it and wrote _Excellent aperitif, my compliments!_ followed by his autograph, then he handed it back to her. The girl looked at it, and then beamed at him in thanks.

“Are all Elbans so nice and discreet?” Richard asked once he and Jerry had joined again the women. Jerry nodded.

“Yep, I think it’s partly because of their character, and partly because they’re used to celebrities coming to visit their isle. Generally, it’s the tourists who, seeing a VIP, go nuts”, he stifled a laugh. “In June they caught Sean Connery walking about the market in Portoferraio, there was almost a disturbance caused by a hysterical French woman who began shrieking...”

“I saw her with my own eyes”, Raffaella confirmed. “And think that she was a woman of a certain age, not a teenager!”

“Age doesn’t matter, if a fangirl is crazy”, Nives commented, recalling her reactions at her first encounter with Richard. “I almost fainted on the spot, when Richard spoke to me the first time”, she added, with slight auto-irony.

“But you didn’t start shrieking in the middle of the crowd”, Raffaella observed laughing. “Or am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not”, Nives nodded, laughing in turn.

Meanwhile, they had reached the restaurant, which was very near. They were early and there was hardly anyone, therefore they were walked to their table in the garden at once, where shade was provided by gazebos, beach umbrellas and even several palm trees. Raffaella had asked for a secluded table, as to better protect Richard from exposure to the public. Learning he would host a famous person, Galvano, the owner, had made sure to give them a suitable table: it wasn’t the first time that a celebrity came to his restaurant and he knew how to handle the situation, therefore he had ordered the waiters to keep a close eye on that particular table, guarding the guests from any disturbance.

As they didn’t want to eat too much – never healthy, especially by the current heat – the two couples chose to have only a starter and a first course. As appetizers, they had a mixed seafood plate, boiled and simply seasoned with green pepper, and a tuna _carpaccio_ with cherry tomatoes and arugula; as for the first courses, Nives chose gnocchi with tub gurnard and Richard macaroni with mussels and sheep cheese, and then, when they were half through, they exchanged dishes so they could taste both specialities. This was something that Jerry and Raffaella too did, and this time was no exception. Of course, with the food came a local wine, a delicate White Elba with a dry and harmonious taste, served very chilled, and plentiful water, both sparkling and still.

As a dessert, they had mixed fruit salad, for Raffaella without peaches because she was allergic to this particular fruit.

Throughout their lunch, nobody bothered them, as evidence of the effectiveness of the measures Galvano had taken. At the end of the meal, the owner came to offer them their homemade digestive, called _limonino_ cream, a typical liquor based on lemon. It delighted Richard, who complimented Galvano and also the food and the service. The elderly, but still very energetic owner of _La Lampara_ asked a picture with Richard and Nives for his collection of celebrity photos covering one wall of his restaurant, and they were happy to comply.

Ending the meal with an excellent coffee, Richard used his credit card to pay and then the two couples left the place, heading for the car. It was so hot – the temperature was near 40° C (***) – they tried to keep as much as possible in the shade of the houses, but at this time of the day, the sun was just over the zenith and therefore there was almost none. Luckily, all the way was downhill, but despite this, when they reached the car they were drenched in sweat. The farsighted Raffaella had brought a couple of towels, therefore, while Jerry turned on the air conditioning of the Edge on full blast and then closed the doors waiting for the inside to cool, they dried up a little in the poor shadow of the sole tree in the park lot.

Unlike many of his fellow countrymen and –women, Jerry had learned – with Raffaella’s help – that it’s never a good idea to expose oneself to sudden temperature changes, and Nives was extremely grateful for this because twice in the past, during her journeys abroad, she had been terribly sick because she had caught nasty chills. Therefore, when the temperature inside the car dropped to an acceptable level, Jerry invited them to climb into the Edge and he drove them home.

“So, did you like the trip?” Raffaella asked Richard and Nives.

“Absolutely!” the Brit assured her, as Nives nodded. “A truly nice little town; and I’m satisfied with my purchases. Besides, lunch was excellent”, he concluded enthusiastically.

When they arrived at Villa d’Altariva, as they were getting inside Nives pulled Raffaella aside, speaking in a soft voice so that only her friend would hear. “Listen, I’d like to… have a picnic with Richard in your garden, late in the afternoon…”

Raffaella guessed at once what Nives really meant.

“Of course”, she grinned. “This spring, I had a wooden gazebo installed on that round patch of concrete that I found when I purchased this place. It’s truly beautiful, I’d say almost _elven-like_ … very suited to your Nerwen”, she concluded. She had been among the first people to read Nives’ Tolkienian fan fiction and still kept reading it gladly as the author published the chapters on Wattpad. “Speaking of the gazebo… Jerry and I already _used_ it, if you know what I mean…I suggest you to do as much”, Raffaella added, chuckling. Nives couldn’t help but giggle in turn.

“Hey, what are you whispering about, you two?” Jerry asked, winking, making it clear that it was a teasing pun and not an interrogation.

“Women’s secrets!” Raffaella promptly responded in the same tone.

“Uh-uh, Richard, I guess our girls are up to something…” the archer pretended to be concerned.

“And I guess that, whatever it is, we’re going to like it…” grinned Richard. They burst out laughing, as the two women exchanged amused glances.

After changing into their swimsuits, they headed to the pool, diving briefly in the water, and then laying down lazily in the shade of the canopies covering the sunbeds.

Around 4.30 p.m., Raffaella and Nives rose and left, preventing the men to go with them.

“I told you, they’re up to something…” Jerry told Richard from the other side of the pool, but they had to keep their curiosity at bay for some time.

Fifteen minutes later, Raffaella came back with a tray carrying two cups of ice cream, which she placed down on the side table of the sunbed she shared with Jerry.

“Richard, Nives is waiting for you in the kitchen”, she announced. Surprised, the actor rose and went into the house, where he found Nives closing the cooler that Raffaella had lent her. She wore a long green chiffon dress, with spaghetti strings crossing at the back, and had let down her hair, which she usually plaited in a high braid because of the heat.

Richard stared at her in rapture: she looked like a fay.

“Gosh, you’re _stunning_ …” he declared.

“Thank you”, Nives whispered, deeply thrilled by his evident admiration. “What about going for a picnic, just the two of us?” she then asked, smiling.

“Gladly, but where to?”

“In a secluded corner of the garden, a very Tolkienian place”, she answered. “I’ll be Nerwen and you Aryon.”

“Do you want me to dress up in black to look like your elven prince?”

“Only if you feel like”, Nives answered, worried that he could be uncomfortable. “I was under the impression that you thought the idea intriguing, the other evening…”

“Oh yes, pretty much!” Richard assured her with a smirk full of expectation, which made her feel hot despite the air-conditioned room and her very light dress. “I’m going upstairs to change.”

Richard liked to wear black and he always carried something of that colour with him. Soon enough, he was back sporting a shirt with rolled-up sleeves and linen trousers, and the perforated shoes he had purchased that morning at Capoliveri. A t-shirt would have been fresher, but the shirt seemed more suitable; besides, he had endured Guy’s imitation-leather outfit and Thorin’s very heavy costume, both in high summer: he could well do that with a shirt.

When he returned downstairs, he found Nives waiting for him in the hall. She stared at him from head to toe with an extremely pleased expression. “You look very handsome… Lord Aryon.”

Richard straightened his back, showing his considerable height, and put on a slightly arrogant face, very _Guy-of-Gisborne-like_ and therefore _Aryon-Morvacor-like_. She was stunned as usual about his skill of literally morphing into a different _persona_ just with an imperceptible change, stepping completely into the character’s shoes.

“May I invite you for a walk in the garden, Lady Nerwen?” Richard asked her, holding out his hand.

“Thank you, you’re very kind”, she answered, accepting his hand with a smile. Richard grabbed the cooler and Nives led him to another door, looking onto the side of the house facing the part of the garden they were heading for. A narrow path, covered with white gravel and outlined with large rectangular terracotta pots full of colourful flowers, wound through a well-trimmed lawn, leading to a veritable wood of holm oaks, maritime pines and hornbeams. The path continued through the trees, and in the shade the temperature was definitely more tolerable than elsewhere.

“Beautiful”, said Richard, looking around appreciatively. “Definitely better than Mirkwood!” he added emphatically, meaning the gloomy and perilous forest that the fellowship of the Dwarves, along with Bilbo Baggins, had been forced to cross during the second movie of the _The Hobbit_ trilogy.

“That’s for sure!” Nives agreed laughing. Soon, they reached the wooden gazebo and both looked at it, enchanted.

“Now I understand why Raffi called it _Tolkienian_ ”, said Nives. “I feel like being in Middle-earth.”

“I agree”, Richard nodded. He placed the cooler onto the table and took off his shoes and _fantasmini_ , both to stay comfortably cool and because he loved being bare-footed. Nives promptly did as much, for the same reasons.

“What do you think of this garden, Lady Nerwen?” asked the actor, going into _roleplaying mode_. “Do you like it?”

She tried to answer properly. “Yes, I like it truly much, Lord Aryon. Thank you for taking me here.”

“I thought it was the right place for you, considering your title, _the Green_ …”

“You thought correctly”, confirmed _Nerwen_. “Amidst the green is where I feel the most comfortable.”

“I thought so… Please, have a seat”, _Aryon_ then invited her. “I am quite hungry, and you?”

“Yes, I too…”

They opened the bag and took out two cups of ice cream, carefully surrounded by eutectic plates – the complicated technical name for the ice bags – and plastic spoons. There was a pack of paper napkins and another of wet wipes. On the bottom, there was a folded picnic blanket, with one plasticised side, made specifically to be placed on the ground and prevent any possible soil humidity to pass through. As the gazebo was equipped with table and benches, this blanket was evidently meant for another use, and only one came to Richard’s mind. He hid an expectant smirk, keeping his impassive mask as Aryon Morvacor.

They ate the chocolate-and-vanilla ice creams by a famous Italian industrial brand. Of course, the quality was not comparable to artisan _gelato_ , but it was acceptable. All along, Richard asked Nives about her fan fiction, as he wanted to know more about it, and she narrated her _alter ego_ ’s adventures in Middle-earth, from when Yavanna had given her the task to find the Ents, without omitting her brief but intense flirt with Thorin, nor the consoling one with Beriadir of Lothlorien, until the encounter with Aryon and then beyond, as far as she had written the story, that is, just before the finding of the Entwives. Out of reticence, she didn’t mention the fact that Nerwen and Aryon had wed, because she didn’t want Richard thinking she was aiming to marriage. After the great disappointment she had suffered, she wasn’t interested in remarrying, at all, but even if she was, she would never push it, not even talking about two fictional characters.

“Gripping!” Richard declared in the end. “I’d very much like to read this story.” 

“I’d be happy if you do”, she answered, flattered. “But translating it would require a tremendous amount of time.”

“I can have it translated”, the actor proposed, surprising her. “And then you could take advantage of it and publish your fan fiction on an international site, so it’d have greater visibility.”

“Ah… thanks, but it’d cost you a fortune…”

“Forget the cost, I can afford it…” seeing her embarrassment, he grasped her hand. “I mean it: what’s the good of all the money I earn with my job, if I cannot spend it as I fancy?”

“That too is true”, she admitted. “Fine, I’ll think about it…”

“There’s an alternative”, Richard considered slowly. “That is, I learn Italian well…”

At this point, Nives yielded.

“Oh, okay then”, she said, laughing. “I got it: one way or another, you want to read it.”

“Precisely”, he confirmed in a seraphic way. “Well, tell me, where in time could we be, as Nerwen and Aryon, right now?”

She reflected. “We could be at the Midsummer Feast, when we realise we’re partners for life… first I, and after some time you too. In my narration, you reject me because you cannot believe that a Human – as you think I am – can be your fated partner, but… we could have the scene ending _otherwise_ , here…” she concluded with a giggle that had Richard curling his lips in a _very_ naughty smirk.

“Excellent idea”, he murmured. “Tell me, how does the scene begin, exactly?”

“You just walked me to my bedchamber and are about to leave”, Nives explained. “At that moment, the knowledge hits you like a sledgehammer: we are destined together. You turn and look at me, incredulous, then you come back and kiss me breathless; you push me against the door, then you open it and we get into the room. You want to bed me at once and start to disrobe me… In my story, at this point you think better of it and run like hell, but here…”

“…it’s going to end up differently”, he assured her, grasping her hand and taking it to his lips. “Your power over me is incredible”, he then whispered. “I just look at you and I want you… not much for the pleasure you always make me feel, but for the fact that I can be joined with you, one single thing with you, both flesh and soul… I love you so much that, when we are not together, I feel like halved…”

Nives swallowed hard, thrilled beyond description by these romantic and passionate words.

“Same here…” she whispered. “I love you immensely and I miss you so much when you’re not with me, but now we’re together… and me too, I just look at you and I want you, for the same reasons…”

Tenderness filled Richard’s gaze, so great, it was inexpressible with words, the same gaze John Thornton had given to Margaret Hale in the beautiful mini-series _North and South_ when he finally found out that she too loved him. Unaware that she was staring at him with that same expression, Nives felt her knees turning into jelly and was glad she was still sitting or she would collapse in a heap.

Richard felt his heart beating in his chest so hard that he feared it would break his ribcage. No woman had ever looked at him with such devotion, not even for scenic fiction, and for a moment, he felt his head spinning because of the deep emotion that had caught him. He realised he had forgotten to breathe and so he inhaled, slowly, trying to calm down and find enough concentration to perform for Nives her Tolkienian dream, the elven prince Aryon Morvacor.

His iron discipline got the better of his emotion and he was ready to begin.

“Wait a minute”, he exhorted her, rising. He took the blanket from the cooler and, showing it to Nives, he explained. “We’ll pretend it’s the bed in your chamber.”

She nodded in agreement, so he walked in the shade of a nearby tree and spread out the blanket on the grass. Then, he returned to Nives and made her rise in turn.

“I bid you a good night, Lady Nerwen…” he said, kissing her hand.

She realised the _game_ was on and concentrated on answering suitably.

“Good night to you, Lord Aryon…” she said in a flat tone, expressing Nerwen’s disappointment over the fact that he was going away when she had hoped instead he would realise they were partners for life and spend the night with her.

With a bow, Richard turned and walked a couple of metres away from her, then he stopped halfway through one step and flinched as if he had received a blow to his head, just as Nives had described Aryon’s reaction at the revelation of their shared destiny. He turned, wide-eyed, his lips parted in astonishment.

“You… you are my partner for life…?” he breathed. It wasn’t the exact line, but he couldn’t know and it was good enough anyway. Nives nodded to confirm. Then, Richard’s eyes searched for hers and she felt as if her soul was being pierced. With two quick strides, _Aryon_ was in front of her and his arms surrounded her and crushed her to him, as his lips searched for hers. Nives slid her arms behind his back and parted her lips, welcoming his kiss; it began sweetly, but soon it changed, becoming increasingly sensual and demanding.

As he couldn’t press her against a door, Richard drove her backwards to the table, pushing her against it and holding her flush against his body. She caressed his back, then she slipped her hands downwards over his buttocks, wrapped into his black trousers, and wriggled against him. She heard him groan and felt his desire-swollen virility pressing against her abdomen. This aroused her, lighting a devastating fire inside of her, both in her belly and in her soul. She grabbed his shirt and pulled it out of his trousers, slipping her hands under it to brush his bare skin; she travelled up and down his spine with her fingernails and felt him trembling in her arms.

“Oh Nerwen…what do you do to me…” she heard Richard’s hoarse whisper before he nipped at her earlobe. A moment later, she felt his lips on her neck, travelling down to her shoulder. Bending down, he created room between their bodies and Nives took advantage of it, starting to unbutton his shirt. As soon as she had opened it, she caressed his muscular chest, brushing his nipples and making him groan again.

Richard straightened his back and again she took advantage of his move to push his shirt down his arms, leaving him bare-chested: the garment dropped to the ground.

The actor raised his hands and began to lower the spaghetti-straps of her dress – and found out that Nives wore no bra. When the dress dropped to the ground in a heap, revealing her white lace knickers, Richard stared breathless at her lovely and almost naked figure. His gaze travelled all over her, from her passion-blazing eyes, to her parted lips, to her breasts crowned with hard buds, to her knickers revealing the shadow of the curls that adorned her femininity, to her beautifully shaped legs. Propped against the table, Nives was terribly inviting and for a vertiginous moment, he was tempted to make her sit on the top and take her this way; but then, it didn’t look right for the moment and he thought she would prefer lying on the blanket. After all, she had brought it for this purpose exactly, and he had readied it for the same reason.

“You’re so beautiful, Nerwen...” he said in a low voice; he passed one hand behind her back and cupped one of her breasts with the other, brushing its excited peak with his thumb. “I want you so much...”

He kissed her again, passionately and long; then, he descended on her throat, as she threw her head backwards and arched her back to give him room. He placed a chain of feather-like kisses on her chest, before climbing the soft mound of the other breast; he reached the nipple and sucked it sensually, caressing it with the tip of his tongue and nibbling at it until she gasped. Then, he moved on to the other bud, giving it the same attentions.

Feeling her depths afire because of the current of pleasure that, from the tips of her breasts, arrived to her core, Nives clung on to Richard’s shoulders.

“Oh... oh! Aryon...” she sighed. Richard left her breasts and quickly lifted her into his arms.

“I truly have no idea how Aryon could resist”, he grumbled extemporaneously, carrying her to the blanket under the tree, where he lay her down and stretched out beside her. He was about to take her again into his embrace, but she pushed him on his back, her eyes full of promises. She stooped and placed her lips on his chest, caressing the reliefs of his pectorals, and then brushing her tongue over his nipples, making him gasp. She dropped to his abdomen, nibbling at it, then she followed the path of hair that, from his belly-button, went down into his trousers. She unbuckled and unzipped them, and quickly got rid of the garment; then she caressed up Richard’s legs, brushing lightly the back of his knees – one of his most sensitive spots – to finally cup his exuberant virility.

Richard groaned in pleasure as she caressed him; he closed his eyes, then reopened them wide when she pulled down his trunks and kissed the tip. He jumped and uttered a stifled cry, which turned into a proper whimper when Nives, after freeing him completely, closed her mouth around his male sceptre.

“Gosh, baby...!” he panted.

“Mmmmhhh?” she mumbled in a quizzical, provocative tone, continuing undeterred to stimulate him. Richard peeped down, but the sight of Nives’ lips around his virility made him dizzy.

“St... stop”, he begged her. He was so aroused that he felt like exploding and he thought he would _arrive_ in ten seconds, should she go on.

Luckily, Nives had realised she was pushing him over the edge and withdrew, raising her eyes to his as she let him slowly go.

“Now let _me_ show _you_ something...” Richard threatened her, turning her on her back.

“Oh, yes, _please_ ”, she chuckled, complying more than gladly. The actor didn’t need any more encouragement; quickly, he removed the last of her garment and then caressed her intimately, delicately. Hearing her sigh, he repeated the caress more firmly and the sigh turned into a light moan. So, he brushed her most sensitive spot, eliciting a stronger lament from her; finally, he dropped his mouth on that same spot.

An inarticulate cry left Nives’ throat as she felt his tongue brushing her sensually; her feminine depths quivered and she clutched the blanket.

“Richard...!” she panted, breathless. The use of his true name made him realise she was losing her head, which was exactly his goal; he parted her warm petals and tasted the nectar hidden into them, until he felt her starting to squirm in a spasmodic way.

“Please... I can’t take anymore... I want you…”

Impossible resisting such an invitation and Richard didn’t even take it into account; more than happy to indulge her, he removed his mouth from her secret treasure and lay down on her.

Nives stared into Richard’s eyes as she felt him slowly shoving himself inside of her; unable to wait a second longer, she raised her hips to meet him and hasten their joining.

When he was completely inside of her, Richard stilled for a few moments, to savour the sensation of her warmth surrounding him. Then, he started moving, with small and slow movements at the beginning, aiming to stir even more Nives’ yearning; then, as her amorous laments increased volume, at a broader and quicker pace. When he saw her closing her eyes, moaning, the realised she was near the goal and, with a last, decisive thrust, he propelled her to the top.

Nives trembled, inside and outside, emotionally and physically; she screamed Richard’s name as she digged her fingernails into his back. She felt as if the world was vanishing around them.

Richard felt her inner muscles tighten convulsively around him; her first spasm took his breath away, the second hurled him to completion. With a scream that echoed Nives’, he spurted inside of her almost violently and, for a second, his sight dimmed.

After long moments, the devastating pleasure that had swept them away subsided; they lay gasping, covered in perspiration.

Nives’ head was spinning; she opened her eyes, staring at the trunk of the tree shading them, and, seeing it was still, she was reassured that they hadn’t ended up into a tornado.

Richard propped on his elbows to look at her; noticing it, she looked at him in turn.

“You took me to paradise”, he murmured. Nives smiled, slightly blushing at what sounded like a compliment to her skills as a lover.

“And you took me with you”, she replied. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, with the tenderness he never failed to show her, after sex.

“I _adore_ doing so”, he declared emphatically. “Because I love you.”

“And I love _you_...”

They stayed this way for some time, exchanging kisses and sweet words, and finally they parted. They freshened up using the wet wipes – which purpose had now become apparent – and then they got dressed again. As they put the rubbish into the cooler, the actor recalled the role play they had had in Cortina, with him as Porter, and remembered a detail. He grabbed Nives’ wrist and made her turn to him; surprised, she looked at him and noted his very _Gisborne-esque_ glare.

“What’s wrong?” she enquired, perplexed.

“Now you have to tell me who this Richard is...” he answered, trying to keep his scowl, but when Nives burst into laughter, exactly like in Cortina, he too grinned.

“No way, whoever you perform, no matter how good you are at it, in the end I always look for my Richard”, she finally stated. He pulled her into his arms.

“Yes, I can see that”, he confirmed, and then kissed her tenderly.

OOO

Raffaella noted that Jerry was watching Richard with a knowing gaze as the actor walked away.

“Nives wants to take Richard at the elven gazebo for a role play...” she revealed.

“Ha!” the archer cried. “That’s what you and Nives were whispering about earlier, isn’t it?”

“Precisely. She will be her Tolkienian alter ego, Nerwen the Green, and he’ll play Prince Aryon Morvacor, her elven lover. Nives told me she enjoyed very much the last time she role played with Richard”, Raffaella added.

“Really?” Jerry mused, then an idea struck him. “We could do as much”, he suggested. “I could be Hawkeye... or would you prefer Robin Hood?”

Raffaella laughed: in six years marriage, neither of them had ever thought about role playing. The idea intrigued her.

“Okay, _Clint Barton_ ”, she therefore said, mentioning the legal name of the Avengers’ archer. “But know that my true love remains Jerry Runner, always”, she added.

He pressed her to him and stooped.

“I know that very well...” he whispered in her ear, and then kissed her neck. She felt a hot shiver shooting through her under the caress of his lips. “You know that I’m always very happy to fulfil every fantasy of yours, if I can, honey.”

Raffaella chuckled, recalling something that had occurred two days before at the riding school.

“Hum... do you remember the day before yesterday, when I took you to Sky? We talked about... er... how comfortable the haystacks looked...”

“I remember”, he confirmed, as a slow, sly smile curled his lips.

“Well, I was thinking that we could _put it into practice_ ”, Raffaella concluded with a cheeky grin.

“Very _western_ ”, the archer commented, watching her with a heated gaze. “I’d take you there at once... but I imagine it’d be very improper, with all the workers, the instructors and the clients walking about...”

She laughed. “Even if there wouldn’t be anybody around, now it’s too hot! But tonight, instead of going straight to our room, we could go there”, she suggested. They had the keys to access the grounds, and the code to deactivate the alarm. The reason was because, in case of need, they were by far the closest ones who could intervene – for instance, in case of fire or of attempted theft – as Giorgio or even the police were, who had to come from Capoliveri.

“Mmmhhh, like clandestine lovers”, Jerry grinned with such a comical face, that Raffaella laughed her head off. Then the American man looked at the ice creams and sighed. “Okay, for now let’s satisfy another type of _hunger_...”

They ate their ice creams, then they lay again in the sun. Around six o’clock, Richard and Nives came back, again wearing their swimsuits. Raffaella rose and invited Nives to keep her company in the Jacuzzi, leaving the two men alone.

“Well, did you enjoy the elven gazebo?” Jerry asked Richard, not hiding a knowing tone. The Brit raised one eyebrow: Nives had told him that her two friends had already _had fun_ in that gazebo, so he couldn’t resist the temptation to throw back.

“Yeah, Jerry”, he grinned. “At least as much as _you_ enjoyed it.”

The archer chuckled.

“Our girls know how to surprise us”, he commented in a low voice, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and admiration. “And also how to _get_ us”, he added. “As far as I am concerned, Raffi has me wrapped around her little finger, and I’m happy and content.”

Richard nodded. “And Nives has me”, he admitted.

Dissatisfied with having been left alone, the two men joined the women in the Jacuzzi and sat with them for another session of relax.

OOO

For dinner, Marcella prepared grilled cockerel with roast potatoes and green salad; they all enjoyed it very much.

After coffee, the two couples played tombola; at stake, sugar-free fruit-drops. Among laughs and witty puns, they took turns in drawing the numbers and in the end, the one with the biggest heap of candies was Nives, as she had won more than anyone the highest combinations. Once, she even managed a double, a set of five and a tombola in one single game.

At 10.30 p.m., they stopped and the sweets returned into the vessel. Richard and Nives rose, but the other two said they wanted to stay a little longer before going to sleep, so the first couple bid them goodnight and went upstairs.

Jerry and Raffaella waited a few minutes, then exchanged a smiling gaze and rose; the archer moved, but she stopped him.

“It will be dark in the stables”, she observed. “I’m going to fetch a light.”

She went into the house and a few moments later she joined Jerry in the hall, carrying a LED-lamp, small but with a powerful light beam. Grinning like teenagers planning mischief, the two spouses climbed into the car and drove to the riding school, reaching it a few minutes later. They entered using the remote control of the gate; Jerry parked his SUV and, hand in hand with his wife, they headed for the stable entrance, having fun at moving sneakily as if they truly were clandestine lovers. Of course, it was useless, as the surveillance cameras would nevertheless pick them up, but nobody was looking at the screens at this time of the night; and nobody would look at them anyway, because they wouldn’t trigger any alarm, besides the footage would be automatically deleted after 24 hours.

Jerry deactivated the alarm and they slipped inside the stables, closing the door behind them. Raffaella turned on the LED-lamp, then together they headed for one of the empty stalls and got into it. Because of the heat, all the windows were open and fans were operating over each stall, to keep the animals cool. In the darkness, all horses were sleeping, comfortably lying onto the straw covering the floor, and the furtive sounds of the two pretended clandestine lovers didn’t stir them.

Jerry looked at Raffaella in the light of the lamp that she has placed on the floor; she wore a short black dress that became her very well, hugging her lovely curves, and he felt his hands itching, wanting to take it off her and caress her skin. He stretched out his arms to carry out his purpose, but Raffaella moved away from him, withdrawing towards the haystack at the end of the stall. Winking in a very naughty way, she pulled down the straps of her dress, then she pushed the garment all the way down, beyond the curve of her hips, and dropped it to the floor. Under it, she wore ivory white matching bra and knickers.

Taken off guard, the archer was completely breathless for a moment. Trying to look nonchalant, he crossed his arms on his chest and smirked, as his eyes travelled in admiration over those curves he knew so well, but that never ceased to arouse inside of him a deep longing that went much beyond mere carnality.

He resisted only a few seconds.

“Ah, Raffi”, he sighed; he quickly took off his black t-shirt and jeans, kicking away his slip-on shoes, and then he got near her. “My beautiful wife...”

To her surprise, he lifted her onto his arms and she squeaked, clinging to his neck; a moment later, he placed her on the piled up hay. It was soft and fragrant and they would be comfortable.

In backlight, Raffaella saw her husband’s erection barely contained into his trunks. Before he would lay down next to her, she sat up and extended one hand to caress it.

“Mmmhh, what do we have here...?” she asked softly. “Looks like something interesting...”

Jerry jumped as she touched him and uttered a stifled cry.

“Let’s say... it’s a present for you”, he croaked, pressing himself into that intriguing hand.

“Ha, then I have to unwrap it...” she chuckled along the lines. “Let’s see what it is about...”

She pulled down his trunks and his manhood sprang out, pointing straight towards her.

“Oh how nice...” Raffaella sighed, wrapping her fingers around it. “Looks good, I’m going to taste it…”

Jerry voiced another stifled sound as she caressed him erotically, at first with her hand, then with her lips; when she began sucking, he felt the tension skyrocketing as his knees threatened to give in.

“R... Raffaella!” he stammered, trying to remain standing. She removed her mouth from him and straightened her back; then, looking into his eyes, she unhooked her bra and dropped it, and finally she lay down on her back, an unmistakably inviting expression on her face.

Jerry’s eyes focussed on her naked breasts, which hard nipples were just waiting for his caresses. His trunks were still around his ankles, so he kicked them away and kneeled on the straw, stooping over her.

“You’re awesome, honey... in every sense of the word”, he murmured, before cupping one breast and bending lower to take its peak into his mouth. Raffaella moaned, feeling a great heat blooming between her legs.

“Oh Jerry... no... it’s _you_ , the awesome one...” she gasped, yearning for even sexier caresses. After six years marriage, he was still capable of having her craving for him, and this isn’t granted, at all, in a long-term relationship.

Jerry lingered for some more moments, then he climbed to kiss one side of her neck, climbing even more to get under her ear. He followed her jawline as far as her mouth; he brushed her lips with his, then he caressed them with the tip of his tongue. Raffaella parted her lips and reciprocated him, brushing his tongue with hers; they kissed deeply, passionate and sweet at the same time.

Then, Jerry broke the kiss and reversed the same path on the other side, along her jawline, then under her ear, on her neck, down to her other breast, finally placing his mouth on the tip and nibbling at it. Shocks of pleasure shot through Raffaella’s depths and she uttered a long groan.

After a few moments, he left her nipple, now so stiff it was almost hurting, and slid down Raffaella’s body, placing kisses on her torso, then on her quivering belly, down to the core of her womanhood, which he kissed through the fabric of her knickers. Feeling her jumping and uttering a moan, Jerry smiled secretly. Yearning to touch her with no barriers, he slipped one finger under the hem of the tiny garment and found her secret garden, already moist with desire. Again, Raffaella voiced a groan, louder than before. Unable to wait any longer, he took off her knickers, then he brushed her soft petals, parting them gently.

“Jerrry...!” she panted, almost in a swoon. Her call nearly made him lose his head, but he managed to keep it a few more moments to savour the delicious nectar of her feminine flower, its sweet juices sliding onto his tongue. Then, spurred on by her wild moans, he lay down on her and shoved himself inside her body.

Raffaella welcomed him with a sigh of pleasure; she raised her knees and wrapped her legs around Jerry’s waist to make him sink even deeper within her and therefore feeling him more. Delighted, Jerry groaned.

“Raffi... Raffi, you’re incredible...” he whispered. He propped on his arms, positioning himself exactly against the special place inside of her and starting stimulating it.

“Wa... wait... or it’s over in a minute...” she complained, but she didn’t sound much convinced, as she was moving in perfect counterpoint to him.

“I can’t wait...” Jerry confessed. Usually, both liked to take their time, but now they would make an exception: perhaps for the atypical location, perhaps for the pretence of being clandestine lovers, they felt simply too impatient to reach the goal. Anyway, there was always the chance for a _second round_ , later...

Hearing Jerry’s words, Raffaella realised she was as eager as he was.

“Then don’t... don’t stop!” she begged, countering each thrust. The rhythm turned frantic and a few moments later they reached the peak, with the synchrony due to the perfect mutual knowledge. Raffaella dug her fingers into the hay and uttered a long moan, and Jerry echoed it. They trembled uncontrollably, their minds blown away, each one increasing the other’s pleasure, reaching breathtaking heights.

When the spasms finally subsided, Jerry rested on top of Raffaella, his heart hammering in his chest, his blood roaring in his ears.

She was feeling as much: her eyes shut, she couldn’t think straight, thoughts forming in a confused way and then flying off, and she couldn’t hear anything but her own laboured breath melted with Jerry’s.

Slowly, they recovered. Jerry withdrew to look at Raffaella; perceiving his gaze, she opened her eyes to return it.

“It hasn’t happened in a while, the two of us losing our bearings this way”, she commented, amused. Jerry smiled.

“Did you like it?” he asked in a low voice.

“I _loved_ it… We should do it again!”

“Deal...” Jerry bent down and peppered her face with kisses, ending on her lips with all the tenderness he was capable of. “I love you, Raffi, I love you so much...”

“And I love _you_ , Jerry…”

They cuddled for a while; then, they made love again, slowly, tenderly, until they reached a second peak, less intense than the previous, but lasting longer.

Finally, they rose and got dressed again; Jerry saw that Raffaella had some straws in her hair and tried to remove them, as best as possible.

“Don’t worry”, she said, though appreciating his thoughtfulness. “I’ll brush my hair...”

Hand in hand, they left the stables stealthily and headed for the car in the same playful sneaky way they had come, continuing the game of the _clandestine lovers_.

(*) literally _little ghosts_.

(**) Windward Bar.

(***) 104° F


	9. Chapter IX: Thursday, August 13th, 2015

**Chapter IX: Thursday, August 13 th, 2015**

In the morning, Richard and Nives rose earlier than the other two and prepared breakfast for all, therefore, when they came downstairs, Jerry and Raffaella found it ready.

“Hey, thanks!” the American man cried, helping himself with the scrambled eggs, kept warm in the microwave. “You’ve been very nice, guys... I’ll return the favour tomorrow.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a trifle”, Richard shrugged. “Let’s say that whoever gets up first, prepares for all. After all, it takes the same amount of time preparing for two or for four people...” he concluded smiling.

As they finished breakfast, Raffaella turned to her husband.

“Jerry, what about teaching Richard his first lesson of archery?” she suggested.

“Of course! Rich, what do you say?” Jerry called his new British friend with the short for his name that he had been invited to use. Richard knew that Nives instead preferred calling him with his full name, because she liked the sound it made in her ears as she spoke it. Especially – as she had told him – if it occurred under _certain circumstances_...

“If you want to venture on a hopeless cause, I’m in”, the Brit laughed with his usual auto-irony. “Will you too come, girls?”

“Of course I will!” Nives accepted at once. When she came visiting them, she always did archery at least once with Jerry and Raffaella, and usually their sessions ended with Jerry showing a little off, performing some unusual shooting positions, like turning his back to the strawboard and spinning around, or lying on the ground, leaping, or shooting arrows in rapid succession and unfailingly hitting the exact centre of the target.

“Me too”, Raffaella declared. “Nives and I will have our own strawboard, so we won’t interfere with Rich’s lesson.”

Jerry nodded in approval.

“Let’s go get what we need”, he then exhorted them, rising. The others rose in turn and together they headed for the room where the archer kept his collection of bows, arrows, strings, bow stringers, paper targets and strawboards, as well as the specific sportswear like safety glasses, half-finger leather gloves, forearms protections and, for the ladies, bibs. It wasn’t unusual that the string, when released, would scrape against breasts in an even painful way; this problem had given rise to the legend about the Amazons cutting off one breast to better shoot. It was instead far more likely that they simply flattened their torso using constricting leather corsets, looking as if lacking one or both their breasts.

Raffaella had of course her own bow, an Olympic-type model; Jerry had instead several ones, both traditional and Olympic, and even a couple of hyper-technologic compound bows, almost science-fiction-like in Nives’ and Richard’s inexperienced eyes.

“We’ll start with the traditional bow, which you used both in _Robin Hood_ and in _The Hobbit_ ”, Jerry began, talking to Richard. “It’s called also _bare bow_ , and it’s the most suitable for the _instinctive shot_ , as they call it in technical jargon. It has anyway nothing to envy to the more modern and technological bows: if used with the right psycho-physical balance, it achieves equal and even higher performances. However, it’s not used in the official archery competitions”, he concluded, handing him a large single curvature bow in maple wood, its handle covered with lambskin and its limbs with black fibre. It wasn’t stringed, because bows must be kept without string as to avoid being needlessly in tension.

Richard took it and weighed it.

“Beautiful”, he said. “Of course I can say that only in terms of aesthetics, given my poor knowledge about the field...”

“Don’t make him start talking about bows or he’ll drive you nuts!” Raffaella cried, laughing.

Jerry laughed in turn. “You’re better listen to my wife: I already told you that, if I start, you can hardly stop me!”

When the general hilarity was over, he returned to the bows and choose one for Nives, another traditional bow but smaller and lighter, in carbon fibre, very flexible and suitable to her lesser physical strength. For himself, he selected a bow identical to Richard’s, so he would have a matching weapon to better teach him; Raffaella too opted for a bow equal to Nives’.

Jerry used skilfully the bow stringers to string all bows, while Raffaella distributed gloves and forearms protections. Neither she nor Nives wanted the bibs because it was simply too hot, and accepted the resulting risk.

Jerry too equipped himself; after filling a duffel bag with suitable arrows, they exited and headed for the shooting range, were the American man first fixed the paper targets on both strawboards, then positioned said strawboards at a certain distance from one another, so that the two lines of shooting would be well apart.

“Okay”, Jerry began, going into _instructor mode_. “Rich, give me your best shot.”

Richard took an arrow from the open bag that Jerry had placed on a table, notched it, aimed and shot, hitting the strawboard but well away from the centre.

“Well, at least you hit the target”, Jerry commented.

“Just because there’s no ceiling to hit!” Richard smirked.

“I still can’t believe it”, confessed Jerry, shaking his head. “The _ceiling_!!”

They laughed together like old friends.

“Okay, okay”, said the archer in the end. “Back to business. I’ve already seen where the problem is: your shoulders are too stiff...”

Leaving the men to their archery lesson, the women focussed on their line of shooting, taking turns in having fun hitting the target. Raffaella, who could practice all year long, was of course much more skilled than Nives, who could shoot just during her visits at Altariva Estate, but after a little exercise, her arrows began getting nearer to the centre, though keeping farther from it than her friend’s.

Richard’s lesson was fruitful, because soon, following Jerry’s indications, he began shooting better. When he grew tired – shoulders and arms are very stressed in archery – Jerry noticed it at once, because he saw him stiffening again, and therefore he interrupted the class. Nives and Raffaella had stopped already ten minutes before and were now sitting nearby, under a sunshade, chatting and watching the men.

“Earlier, I mentioned the _instinctive shot_ , remember?” said Jerry as Richard put down his bow. The actor nodded, recalling the words the archer had used. “They call this way the type of shot that, though ignoring any technique, proves effective. Then, there’s the dynamic shot: you can shoot in a thousand different ways than the canon way you use in a contest, like the archers did in the past, when attached to the armies, therefore not only standing and holding a bow vertically, but also sitting, on horseback, lying on the ground, holding the bow horizontally or diagonally. The Japanese had invented an asymmetric bow, shorter in the lower part and longer in the upper part, especially suited to shooting while riding on a horse. A very good archer can take aim even before drawing the bow, because it has become an extension of his body, like an arm or a leg. I’ll show you...”

“Now he turns into Hawkeye”, Raffaella commented humorously, meaning that, out of pure chance, this morning Jerry was wearing a black outfit, like his Avenger hero. Nives chuckled, imagining Richard’s stunned face seeing the ex-champion of archery’s exploits. The same she, too, had made when she had seen him the first time, performing acrobatics she had so far thought being simple cinematographic nonsense.

Richard took a few steps back to move out of the archer’s way, careful as not to block the women’s view.

Jerry studied the situation for a moment, evaluating distance, air movement, light. Then, he grasped one arrow and notched it to the string, but without bending the bow. He turned his back on the strawboard, then he pivoted halfway on one leg, falling on the other and shooting the arrow at the same time, holding his bow horizontally; he hit the exact centre of the target and Richard gave an astonished exclamation.

But _Clint Barton_ alias _Hawkeye_ had not finished his amazing performance yet: he took two arrows, notched the first, leaped in the air and shot, again hitting the centre, then he fell and rolled on the ground on one shoulder, notched the second arrow, bent the bow as he was lying and, again, hit the target.

At this point, Richard was wide-eyed and Nives couldn’t help but chuckle, recalling her own amazement seeing Jerry’s archery acrobatics for the first time.

“You should see him shoot while dancing”, Raffaella laughed. “Usually to the music of some song of _Metallica_ or _Guns ‘N’ Roses_.”

Jerry heard her and laughed.

“Next time, we bring the stereo, so I can show you”, he told Richard, who was still watching the three arrows pitched in the black of the target, just a few centimetres apart.

“Awesome”, the Brit commented, breaking his reverie and looking at Jerry with sincere admiration. “How many times have you been world champion?”

“Junior and professional, eight times, and I earned twelve silver medals”, the archer answered, without boast but also without false modesty: after all, he had worked very hard to get as far as he had gotten. “Plus twice individual Olympic gold medal and once team silver medal”, he added, not for ostentation but to provide full information.

“Congratulations!” Richard cried, struck. “With an instructor like you, if I don’t improve my skills I’m going to plead lost cause”, he added wittily.

Jerry started collecting the remaining arrows to put them into the duffel bag.

“The truth is that, like anything else, you need genuine and deep passion”, he commented. “Then the constant exercise does the rest.”

Richard helped him.

“You’re right”, he confirmed. “When I took riding lessons for my job, I discovered that I actually liked riding and therefore I continued; same for skiing, which I learnt during my stay in New Zealand. I never really applied myself to archery, but if you don’t mind, I could really benefit from your willingness to teach me.”

“I don’t mind at all”, Jerry smiled. “Here on the island, the association _Arcieri del Mare_ (*) organises excursions for the so-called _field archery_. Basically, it joins trekking with target shooting, except the targets aren’t the usual strawboards and you don’t shoot from a fixed distance, but they’re silhouettes of animals placed at variable distance, this way recreating the hunting atmosphere of ancient times, before the invention of rifles, when people went hunting with bow and arrows.”

“Sounds interesting!”

Meanwhile, Raffaella had collected the three arrows of Jerry’s performance and put them in the bag along with the others. Nives fanned herself with one hand.

“Gosh it’s hot! I’m going to change and dive into the pool”, she announced.

“Brilliant idea!” Raffaella approved emphatically.

They returned inside and, after storing the archery gear back to its place, the two couples wend upstairs to their rooms. Nives was drenched in sweat, so she had a quick shower; when she exited the bathroom, she found Richard already wearing his black swim trunks. He was watching the panorama from the window overlooking the garden, beyond which he could catch a glimpse of the sea, and his very earnest expression worried her.

“Richard...” she called him, crossing over to him. “What’s wrong?”

The actor turned to look at her and, seeing her concern, he hastened to reassure her. “Nothing’s wrong, but I was making considerations about our future.”

Nives halted in front of him, her eyes into his; she was thrilled that he was thinking at their possible future together.

“Want to share them with me?” she asked in a soft voice. An invitation, not a demand, Richard realised. He wrapped her into his arms and pulled her to him, keeping his gaze into hers.

“I was thinking about the fact that, in the last three years, my career has accelerated”, he started. “I followed the wave, so to speak, for fear of _falling behind_ : I needed twenty years to get to this point and there has been a time when I was about to give up, right before _North and South_... and then, with _The Hobbit_ , all of a sudden I became an international star and now job offers are pouring in. For a while, I accepted everything, from being the main character in a prestigious theatrical play to performing a secondary role in an indie film, to being a guest star in a cult series, but this means spending too few time with you, having too few time for _us_ , and this is beginning to bother me. So I am thinking of accepting less jobs... What would you say?” he concluded, looking at her expectantly.

Nives froze, stunned, and for a minute she didn’t know what to answer. Richard waited patiently as she carefully considered what her partner’s talk implied.

“Hum...” she muttered at length, trying to find the words. “Well, of course I, too, would like to spend more time with you”, she began, sincerely. “But not to the detriment of your career. I know how much it means to you, how your worked hard to get where you are now, accepting even – how can I say – a little too _extreme_ roles, which anyway, in the end, were useful to you”, she paused. “Often it’s easier to get to the top rather than remaining there, in any field, but especially in the star-system. Therefore, Richard, it’s okay if you want to slow down for some time but, at the most, don’t accept _stopgap_ jobs, just because you don’t want to be idle. As for the rest, I want you to go on with your career, fully” she concluded with a reassuring smile. “Just this way, we’ll meet surely more often. I will take it.”

Richard’s heart swelled: Nives’ generosity was simply extraordinary. She could have been more selfish and agree at once with his purpose, or she could have feigned wanting to be altruistic and encourage him into keeping the usual pace, except taking it all back eventually, or even, as Belle (**) had done – the only woman he had moved in with, years ago – she would leave him because she saw too little of him. Instead, she had chosen an excellent middle ground, implicitly declaring that _of course_ she would like to meet him more often, but also that she wasn’t willing to accept him damaging his job. Nonetheless, Richard wasn’t going to risk losing her because he worked too much.

“Alright”, he therefore accepted. “But I want you to promise me one thing: that is, should you ever feel I’m neglecting you because of my profession, you’ll tell me straightforward. Okay?”

“Of course I will...”

“No”, he insisted. “I’m being _extremely_ serious. Years ago I got dumped precisely because of this and I don’t want to take the slightest chance. Therefore, you have to promise me, to _swear_ to me”, noting he had unintentionally raised his voice in agitation, the tried to calm down. “ _Please_ ”, he concluded softly, looking at her intensely.

His almost desperate attitude struck Nives; she returned his gaze.

“Okay”, she said solemnly. “I swear it on our love, and may the Goddess be witness to that: should I feel you’re neglecting me because of your work, I’ll tell you.”

Richard cupped her face.

“I love you so much, Nives”, he murmured, an immense tenderness in his eyes. “There’s _nothing_ I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”

She felt a lump in her throat.

“I love you as much, Richard”, she whispered. “And I know that your job makes you happy, that’s why I don’t want you to desert it too much. A little is okay with me, I admit it, but take it easy. This is the promise _I_ am asking to _you_.”

Richard stared at her, touched.

“Alright”, he said at length. “We have an agreement.”

He lowered his head to kiss her; Nives raised hers and their lips met in a very sweet kiss.

When they withdrew, Nives suddenly realised this had been a very important moment for their relationship and her heart began somersaulting in her chest. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to calm down.

Seeing her perturbed, Richard enquired. “What is it?”

She addressed him a reassuring smile. “Nothing, I’m just thrilled because you demonstrated your willingness to give up part of your job for me.”

The Brit wrinkled his brow. “Wouldn’t you do as much, for me?”

“Of course I would, if necessary to the good of our relationship.”

“Therefore I’m not doing anything that you wouldn’t do”, he concluded with a shrug and a sweet smile, dismissing the topic. Nives felt like melting and held him tight, her face pressed against his neck, very aware that not every man would be willing to do as much.

“How can you just be so... so... _extraordinary_?” she exhaled. Richard frowned again: he didn’t understand Nives’ amazement.

“In my opinion, both parts of a couple have to make small sacrifices to favour the other part, when needed”, he said, as if stating the obvious. “My parents taught me this, in words and by example.”

“Many men wouldn’t do it”, Nives replied, her voice tinged with bitterness. “And this, because of a selfishness they aren’t even aware of, because even nowadays, in the twenty-first century, the common mindset considers as normal that a woman sacrifices more than a man to invest in a relationship.”

“I disagree completely”, Richard declared with a certain vehemence. “This would mean thinking that a woman is less than a man, in terms of right to happiness and self-realisation.”

“A very feminist talk”, Nives observed, happy to hear that her man felt exactly the same way she did.

“Of course it is, didn’t you know that I’m a devout feminist?”

“Well, I know you stated you have great respect for women, but when it comes to facts, many men fall into the usual clichés without even acknowledging it. And so do many women, who do not realise they’re being sexist. Like when they criticise a girl who has been raped just because she wore a miniskirt.”

“That’s an inacceptable reasoning!”

“However, it’s the most used line of defence in trials for rape, along with _she was drunk/on drugs_ , and _she shouldn’t been wandering around alone at that time of night_.”

“More inacceptable reasoning. A man has the right to wear whatever he likes, getting drunk as much as he wants and wander about at any time, why should a woman not?”

“That’s what I, too, am saying...”

Nives was happier than ever to see how similar their concepts were about a topic she considered extremely important; she stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on Richard’s lips.

“No more serious talk”, she exhorted him. “We’re on vacation, we need a light mood!”

“As much as it’s important to share even serious talk, I totally agree with you”, the actor declared, stooping to return the just received kiss. “Come on, let’s join our friends.”

Nives was more than pleased to hear him calling Raffaella and Jerry _our_ friends.

OOO

At lunch – for Nives, fresh fruit that Marcella purchased every day from her favourite greengrocer in Capoliveri, for the others instead sandwiches with two types of Elban cheese, one with fresh, soft _robiola_ and the second with the more solid _cacioricotta_ – Raffaella turned to the guests. 

“What do you say if we go visiting the Napoleonic residences, tomorrow?” she asked.

“What do you mean, _we_?” Nives enquired. “Do you and Jerry plan to come with us?”

“Why not? It’s been years since we went the last time: I know that they did many renovations, especially at the country villa, and I’d like to see them”, Raffaella stated.

“Are you sure that’s no inconvenience?” Nives insisted, a little hesitant. She and Richard were already hosted for free, being also accompanied around seemed really too much.

“If it was an inconvenience, I wouldn’t suggest it”, Raffaella replied vivaciously.

“Exactly”, Jerry reiterated, pouring iced Vermentino into their glasses. “Don’t worry, Nives”, he reassured her further.

“You’re being truly nice”, Richard intervened, impressed by their willingness.

“Well, then I suggest we do like in Capoliveri”, said Jerry. “We start at nine o’clock, we visit at first the Villa San Martino, then the Villa dei Mulini (***), and then we’ll have lunch. If you’re into seafood again, there’s a restaurant, simple but with a striking panorama, right next to Napoleon’s city residence, two minutes on foot... What’s its name, Raffi?”

“Le Viste (****), like the beach below it.”

“I’m always in, about seafood!” Nives announced at once.

“I won’t surely back off”, Richard agreed. “But mind you, I’m going to pay again... No disputing!” he immediately cut off their hosts. “I told you that I’m paying whenever we’re eating out.”

“Actually, I thought you would do it only the other day in Capoliveri”, Jerry protested.

“Well, you got it wrong”, Richard grinned wolfishly. “You’ve got the Eye of a Hawk, but your Ear evidently doesn’t work as well...”

Raffaella burst out laughing so hard, she almost fell from her chair; Jerry couldn’t help but do as much, and Nives joined them, as Richard chuckled to himself, glad he had aroused the general hilarity with his impromptu witty remark.

“Okay, okay, you stubborn Chisit”, muttered Jerry when he managed to contain the laughs.

“No stubbornness, Yankee, just fairness”, the actor replied, angelically. “Besides board and lodging, now I want to repay also the free archery lessons...”

Nives and Raffaella looked at Jerry, confused.

“How did you just call Rich?” the Roman woman enquired.

“ _Chisit_ ”, the Brit answered in his place. “A nickname for Leicesterians. That’s why I replied calling him _Yankee_. By the way, are there nicknames for the inhabitants of your towns?” he asked, looking at the two women.

“There aren’t for my town, but for my province”, Nives answered. “They call us _magnagati_ , that is cat-eaters.”

“Oh gosh, and it’s true? You eat cats?” Richard looked astonished.

“No, for goodness’ sake!” she laughed. “At least, not officially. The nickname origins from a bad famine caused by a pestilence, I think around the end of the Seventeenth Century, when the inhabitants, in order not to starve to death, started eating anything, including cats.”

“I think that, at some point in History, in case of extreme need, everywhere in the world people ate dogs, cats, horses and even mice”, Raffaella commented philosophically. The others nodded in agreement. “As for the inhabitants of Rome, I don’t think there’s any proper nickname”, she went on. “We say we are _romani de Roma_ , Romans of Rome. But I cannot say that anymore, now I’m a _romana de l’Erba_!” she concluded laughing cheerfully.

“Yeah _amò_ , the one you smoked!” Jerry promptly, making a wordplay about the Roman pronunciation of Elba, _Erba_ , that was also a slang word for marijuana. Nives almost choked up on her wine as she cracked up, but Richard, though amused by the new mirth, hadn’t grasped the pun: of course, his still too poor Italian couldn’t deal with the dialectal nuances yet.

After calming down their hilarity, Nives explained. “In Roman dialect, often the l becomes an r, so _Elba_ becomes _Erba_ , or _grass_ , nickname for marijuana.”

Richard got it and laughed. “Like _weed_ in English!”

As they finished eating, they tidied up the kitchen and then they went lounging by the pool. The temperature forced them to move the sunbeds into the shade of the trees, because the curtains weren’t enough to keep off the heat, and also to bathe repeatedly.

“Is it always so hot, here?” asked Richard, unaccustomed to such high temperatures.

“No, normally not”, answered Raffaella. “But for a few years now, more and more often summers are scorching hot because of heatwaves coming from Africa.”

“Precisely”, Nives confirmed, her face turning grim. “If someone comes telling me that climate change is rubbish, I burn them to ashes with a flame-thrower!”

She was no militant nor radical environmentalist, but she felt strongly about the subject.

“You’re perfectly right”, Jerry agreed at once.

“We do need this planet, but this planet does not need us, at all”, Nives reiterated. “Unfortunately, too many people, amongst the leaders who could make the difference, forget it in favour of their filthy profits.”

“Yeah”, Richard too agreed, gloomily. “But they forget also that their children and grandchildren will pay bitter consequences.”

Noting she had inadvertently darkened the atmosphere, Nives changed the topic. “Speaking about tomorrow, shall we book the tickets?”

“No, I don’t think so”, Raffaella answered. “Usually they recommend booking only for large groups, but wait, I’m going to check, just to be sure.”

She grabbed her smartphone and quickly looked up on the main touristic site of the island, confirming that no booking was needed.

Chatting, reading and listening to music, evening came; they headed for their rooms to shower and change, then they met again in the sitting room for the usual aperitif. This time, Salvo had prepared a very peculiar drink, with pineapple, orange and lemon juice, flavoured with grenadine, cinnamon and clove. Nives liked it particularly, as she loved spices.

“My mother is cooking pizza _margherita_ ”, Salvo said, talking to Nives. “Which one among the wines you brought would you suggest?”

Of course, he too, as a professional waiter, was acquainted with the matter, but he was aware that Nives had a better knowledge of Venetian wines than him.

“Given the food, I’d rather choose a wine from Campania”, Nives declared, out of courtesy but especially because it was anyway the best match. Salvo lighted up.

“What about a Greco di Tufo?” he suggested.

“Sounds perfect!” she approved with a smile.

“Marcella’s pizza is amazing”, Raffaella commented after Salvo had left. “Even if we have no wood oven. You’ll see, Rich...”

“I have no doubts that it’ll taste divinely”, said the Brit. His eyes fell upon the piano showing off at the other end of the sitting room, in direction of the dining room. “Which one of you plays?” he enquired.

“I do”, Jerry answered. “The piano is my second love, after archery.”

“Ha! So I’m just in third place?” Raffaella pretended to flare up. Jerry turned to look at her with a beam full of love.

“Of course you’re not”, he contradicted her. “You’re my _love zero_ , the one at the basis of everything, the woman without whom nothing in my life would matter, not even my sports medals...”

Raffaella’s eyes widened at this declaration. She was used to her husband’s romantic exploits, but after all the years together, he still managed to surprise her – like now.

“ _Amò_ , sometimes you leave me breathless”, she said softly. “Like a dream coming true...”

She spoke in Roman dialect, showing clearly how overwhelmed she was feeling. As it wasn’t very different from the Italian version, Richard too understood perfectly; he turned to Nives and clasped her hand, caressing it.

“As you are”, he stated in a low voice. “My dream that has come true...”

Nives nearly dropped her glass, so much was she thrilled. She swallowed hard to gulp the lump that had immediately formed in her throat. Would she ever get used to the fact that Richard Armitage was truly hers? She had kept wondering for almost one year now and the answer was still _no_.

“Tell _me_ about it...” she murmured, her gaze lost in the blue irises of her partner.

But the thrilling moment wasn’t over yet: Jerry rose and, after brushing his wife’s lips in a tender kiss, he sat up at the piano. He plonked away a little to warm up his fingers, then he started a piece that Nives recognised on the spot: it was _Everything I do, I do it for you_ by the romantic rocker Bryan Adams, a piece she adored and that she thought to be the most beautiful love song ever. Tears welled up in her eyes: how many times had she dreamed about listening to it with the man she loved? And now there she was, with Richard...

Looking at his wife, Jerry began singing with his beautiful tenor voice. Raffaella returned his gaze with a dreamy expression, and it was plain that, at that moment, both were in a place all of their own.

A few moments later, Richard rose and, smiling, offered his hand to Nives, inviting her to rise in turn. Unaware of the reason of his behaviour, she looked at him confused, but nonetheless she placed down her glass and accepted his hand, standing up. Richard led her with a few steps to the small open space between the couches and the piano, pulled her into his arms and began swaying in time to the music, his cheek against her temple. When Jerry began singing the refrain, Richard stooped to whisper the words in Nives’ ear: _You know it’s true, everything I do, I do it for you_. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart began drumming so hard, it almost hurt. Richard went on, following Jerry’s voice. When he reached the climax of the song, which lyrics were worthy a medieval love ballad, with the passionate declaration _I would fight for you, I’d lie for you, walk the wire for you, yeah, I’d die for you_ , Nives began weeping uncontrollably, overwhelmed by such an immense happiness, her head was literally spinning; actually, if Richard wouldn’t support her, she would fall because her knees gave in. She held on to his shoulders, dampening his t-shirt with her tears of otherwise inexpressible joy.

Perceiving her emotion, both physically and emotionally, Richard halted and held her tight, stopping whispering the lyrics to her because he too had a lump in his throat. Nives was always so sunny and lively that it was too easy to forget how long and how deep the solitude of the heart had hurt her. He wished – not for the first time – he had met her before, to spare her all the torment she had experienced.

Before the piece’s ending, Raffaella stood up and joined her husband, sitting next to him on the stool. When the last chord faded, she placed one hand on his nape and, turning his face to hers, she kissed him. Jerry snaked one arm around her waist and returned her kiss.

Similarly, Richard had pulled up Nives’ face placing one finger under her chin; he wiped her tears away with his lips and then he kissed her. She circled his neck with her arms and kissed him back.

Salvo was about to enter and announce that the pizzas were ready, but he had heard the music and, as he had learnt to do in these circumstances, he had waited as not to disturb what was surely a very romantic moment. When silence fell, he stepped on the threshold, only to see both couples kissing; he couldn’t help but smile, happy especially for Nives, who he had always thought a dear person, one of those who bring light into the others’ life and who therefore deserved as much. It looked as if she had found her light with this British actor, or so Salvo hoped.

He withdrew and waited a couple of minutes, then he peeped again; as the two couples were now sitting again on the sofas, he entered.

“The pizzas are ready”, he announced, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.

“Fine”, Raffaella smiled, unaware of Salvo’s manoeuvres, and rose with Jerry. The four of them moved and took their seats under the gazebo; Salvo arrived with two pizzas, serving the women first as the etiquette required, then he immediately went for the other pizzas.

“Smells wonderful!” Nives exclaimed, inhaling the delicious aroma of the crispy dough and the topping, based on buffalo mozzarella, homemade tomato sauce, cherry tomatoes and basil.

“My mouth’s watering”, Richard commented, stealing a small piece of mozzarella from her dish.

“Hey!” she protested, feigning indignation. They looked at each other with smiling eyes.

A few moments later, Salvo arrived with the other two pizzas, which he served to the men, and then he uncorked the wine he had kept cooled in an ice bucket. Correctly, he gave it to Nives for the first taste, as she had been the one to choose it on his suggestion; she approved of it, so he poured the Greco di Tufo in the glasses.

“Enjoy your meal”, he said, and then he retired.

The pizzas were absolutely delicious, as Raffaella had predicted.

“I had never had homemade pizza”, declared Richard. “And Nives taught me to pair wine to it, instead of beer as I used to do.”

“What’s your opinion of coke, Nives?” Jerry asked. “Y’ know, as a good American I don’t mind drinking it...”

“Not with meals”, she answered. “But it’s always a matter of tastes, Jerry: if you like it, drink it.”

“Okay... but why do you say _not with meals_?”

“Its taste is too strong, and tends to cover the taste of food. A drink should go _with_ food, not _over_ it. But coke has a big virtue: it’s a fantastic digestive!” seeing the confused glances of Jerry and the others, she explained. “It’s highly acid and this stimulates stomach acids, that is, the digestive process. If you’re suffering a difficult digesting because you ate too much or too heavy, drink a can of coke: it’s better than Alka-Seltzer or hot lemonade. I heard it from several doctors, even Michele’s paediatrician and my mum’s cardiologist; but what’s more interesting, I personally experienced it, therefore I can tell you with good reason that it works.”

“You’re a fountain of information!” Raffaella laughed, genuinely impressed.

“Oh, come on!” Nives laughed in turn. “As I always say, maybe I know all sorts of things, but there are many more that I _don’t_ know...”

The other three nodded, appreciating her simple and humble attitude. The truth was that Nives, though aware she was some kind of walking encyclopaedia, hated showing off and so she tended to minimise her vast culture. Because of this, every now and then there was someone coming up with the unfortunate idea to underestimate her, but it always ended up badly for them because, just as she didn’t like to show off, Nives didn’t tolerate to be underestimated, and in retaliation she buried them under a flood of erudite notions. Richard was just learning it, while her friends knew it very well, as he discovered with their next words.

“Not everyone is as learned as you are and doesn’t show if off”, Jerry declared.

“Except when they tread on your toes”, Raffaella chuckled. “Like two weeks ago in that Facebook group of Tolkien fans...”

Nives grinned. “You mean the discussion about Valinor?”

“Precisely... Guys, know that a dude who had only watched the movies and not also read the books was asking an explanation about Frodo’s destination after sailing from the Grey Havens, as it isn’t actually explicit in the movie. Nives answered that they were heading for Valinor, calling it _paradise_ in quotation marks; but another dude wrote in a very arrogant tone that this definition was wrong, because the Christian idea of paradise is different than Tolkien’s meaning, and also that one goes there dead while Frodo and the others were perfectly alive and such... Nives’ reply was an epic win!”

She burst into laughter, and Nives as well. The men chuckled, infected by their hilarity, and waited for an explanation.

“Tell them, Nives”, Raffaella exhorted her.

Nives concentrated to better recall what she had answered. “Well, quoting directly, I wrote: _you’re right, dear X –_ I don’t remember his name _– and that’s why I placed the word_ paradise _in quotation marks; I could have talked more correctly about the Celtic Tir-Nan-Og, the Land of Eternal Youth, also called the Land of the Living Dead, located into the West beyond the Ninth Wave, which inspired Tolkien; but not knowing if the asker was familiar with it, I chose to name a well-known concept to help him understand at once what I was talking about...”_

Halfway through her speech already, Richard had started chortling and now he was laughing his head off, as much as Jerry.

“You literally buried him!” the Brit cried in between laughs.

“Completely crushed, demolished, annihilated!” the American man reiterated.

“But that’s not all”, Nives told them laughing. “After a while, the same dude posted an ad about an event called _The Celtic Mythology in Tolkien’s Literary Production_ , adding _After PrincessDream’s excellent answer, I invite you all to attend this interesting seminar_. Not wanting to leave him the last word, I commented _How nice! I’d definitely come, too bad it’s too far for me. I hope some other time..._ ”

“Hey, you’re positively _terrible_!” commented Richard, both amused and proud.

Nives nodded in agreement. “If someone asks for it, I’m glad to _give_ it...”

“Well done”, Jerry complimented her. “That’s how you do it!”

After the pizzas, Salvo served a dessert with fruit salad and one scoop of vanilla ice cream.

“On Saturday night Nives and I had dinner only with ice cream”, Richard said. “Considering the heat, we could do as much sometime, he?”

“Stuffing ourselves with ice cream? I’m in!” Jerry accepted at once.

“Me too!” Raffaella laughed. “There’s an excellent ice cream parlour in town, where we can go get as much as we want. And this way we give Marcella and Salvo one night off... What about tomorrow, coming back from our trip? We can keep the ice cream into the freezer until dinner time and then we go for it.”

“Of course, excellent idea”, the others approved.

(*) _Archers of the Sea_.

(**) Belle Dawson, a fellow dancer in the London production of Cats in 1994. It seems – but it has never been confirmed – that she was Richard Armitage’s cohabiting partner for two years, while he was filming _Robin Hood_ , meaning around 10 years after their encounter.

(***) Literally: _Townhouse of the Mills_.


	10. Chapter X: Friday, August 14th, 2015

**Chapter X: Friday, August 14 th, 2015**

They started immediately after breakfast, a little before nine o’clock; they needed almost one hour to reach Villa San Martino, located just outside Portoferraio. They parked Jerry’s Stelvio in the dedicated car park and walked the uphill promenade leading to Napoleon Bonaparte’s country residence during his forced stay in Elba. Like in Capoliveri, Richard wore sunglasses and a baseball cap to disguise himself as an ordinary tourist, in the hope to prevent being recognised and bothered.

As they walked, Jerry’s mobile phone rang; checking the incoming number, Jerry saw it was his mother’s and smiled, accepting the call.

“Hi mom, how are you?” he asked. “Very good, glad to hear that... Yeah, everything’s fine here. We’re about to visit one of the Napoleonic residences with Nives and Richard, Villa San Martino, remember?” he listened for a minute and his smile broadened. “Okay, we’ll take a selfie in front of the villa and I’ll send it to you via Whatsapp... Lunch? Of course local specialties, that goes without saying! Sure, thanks! We’ll speak again soon, kiss kiss”, he ended the call, put away the phone and explained. “My mother wishes us good fun. Rich, she’s crazy about your Thornton in _North and South_. Do you mind if we take a selfie, the four of us?”

“Are you kidding me? Happily!” Richard answered, willing as usual. “Can you send it to me? My mother, too, would appreciate a picture of the four of us.”

“I never take good selfies”, Nives complained, knowing perfectly she wasn’t photogenic. In Richard’s fond eyes, instead, Nives was gorgeous always and in any case, but he respected her opinion.

“What about asking someone to photograph us?” he suggested.

There were several people in the walkway, groups of friends, couples and families. Jerry asked one of the latter and the father accepted promptly, taking the smartphone that the archer was handing him, thinking he was any random Anglophone tourist speaking Italian unusually well. The two couples posed in front of the villa – Jerry with one arm around Raffaella’s shoulders, Richard embracing Nives from behind – and the kind man – without any show of recognising the British actor – took three shots. Thanking the family, Jerry selected the best photo and sent it to his mother and to Nives, who would share it with Richard and her father, Luigi, who loved receiving pictures of his daughter during her journeys. Unlike Tina, Nives’ mother, who had never been able to go beyond the most basic of mobile phones, and despite his advanced age, Luigi was always up to date with the newest electronic devices. He had learnt how to use a tablet and had even joined Facebook and Instagram. Therefore, Nives sent him the photo with the greetings from all of them, knowing he would appreciate it. As soon as Richard received the image, he forwarded it to Margaret with a very similar caption.

Raffaella went getting the tickets for them and then didn’t want to listen about any reimbursement from Nives and Richard.

“You already paying for lunch...” she tried to justify herself, glancing at the Brit.

“And with the pretext that my car is small, you two drive us around half the isle”, threw back Nives. “This means that I’m going to pay for the other residence!”

Her tone was so definitive that no one dared to oppose her. Under her easygoing and kind appearance, Nives disguised a considerable grit, and her two friends knew it well, while Richard was still in the discovery phase, but he liked it greatly, as it was indicative of somebody one can rely on, if need arises.

They visited the villa, which restoration was not over yet; what struck Richard the most, was the hatch leading from Napoleon’s bedchamber directly to the bathroom on the lower floor, which was equipped with a stone bathtub; as well as the grand Demidoff Gallery, which columns were like a forest of white marble.

The residence wasn’t very large and they needed just over one hour to visit it. Then, they returned to the car and, twenty minutes later, they reached the Palazzina dei Mulini, Napoleon’s townhouse and main residence in Elba, built on a cliff dropping straight into the sea. They had a little trouble to find parking – as usual in this season – but at last they located a spot along Via della Regina (*), from where it took only five minutes on foot to arrive at the imperial residence. This building too was not very extensive, but there was also a lush garden to visit, which overlooked the sea, offering a breathtaking scenery stretching to Piombino, on the mainland, which they admired as they exited the townhouse after visiting its interior.

“Excuse me, miss...” a shy male voice called in Italian. Nives turned and saw a dark-haired young man, wearing a sleeveless blue t-shirt and dark blue Bermudas. “Aren’t you Nives and Richard?”

For a moment, she was speechless, too surprised at being recognised.

“Oh, hum, yes”, she finally managed to answer.

The young man beamed. “Oh, how nice! I never dreamed of running into you two, coming visiting Elba. I’m so thrilled! I’m a big fan of Richard’s and I follow you both since you disclosed your relationship... I have a Facebook page devoted to you!”

Nives was amazed. “Wh... what? Seriously?”

“Yes, certainly! It’s called _Richard & Nives Love_. I have nearly one thousand likes! You’re a very beloved couple.” 

“Really?” Nives said faintly: she was more than amazed, now. She looked at Richard seeking support, but he had grasped only partly what it was about and asked for clarifications, so she translated quickly what the young man had said.

“I’m honoured”, the actor then told the nice stranger. “Forgive my poor Italian”, he added apologetically.

“Oh no, no, you forgive me for not having spoken English”, the young man hastily said in Richard’s idiom. “My name’s Mario. If I may ask... can I take a picture of the two of you? And maybe a selfie with both of you either?”

“It’s okay with me”, Richard accepted and Nives, too, nodded her agreement; it would be rude refusing, and anyway she didn’t see any reason to. At any rate, she found the thought incredible that these photos would end up soon on the world’s most popular social media and that hundreds, maybe thousands of people would see them.

Raffaella, who had heard the exchange, offered to take the picture of Mario standing between Nives and Richard instead of shooting a selfie, and the young man was very grateful. At the end, he said goodbye, thanking them heartily for their time.

The other visitors had mostly ignored the episode and only a few of them had watched with mild curiosity.

The two couples walked along the bastions to the point nearest Forte Stella, located at the mouth of the bay of Portoferraio, and at last they left the residence. It was almost 1 p.m., the time Raffaella had booked the restaurant, and they headed for it at once, reaching it in just a few minutes.

The restaurant was furnished in a rather simple, almost Spartan style, but from the terrace the view was stunning, with the golden sand of the beach below and the light-to-dark-blue of the sea. Raffaella knew the owners, as they were clients of the Altariva Estate; like in Capoliveri, she had asked for a secluded table, and so they led them to a corner of the terrace, in a spot slightly isolated from the other tables.

Again, they chose a light lunch, opting for grilled seafood with mixed salad and baked potatoes, matching the meal with a rosé wine – of course produced by Altariva Estate – served very chilled, and water.

Throughout their lunch, three young women seated two or three tables away kept staring in their direction and taking pictures with their mobiles. Noticing it, Richard put on an unusually annoyed expression. Seeing Nives watching him quizzically, he explained his behaviour.

“There are three girls keeping staring at us and photographing. I was pampered, in the last days”, he sighed, resigned. “I don’t mind being recognised and asked for photos and autographs, but these furtive manners exasperate me.”

“Do you want me to ask Roberto to send them away?” Jerry asked, already on the warpath, meaning the owner.

“No, no”, Richard hastened to soothe his new friend. “I cannot ask this, as after all they’re just looking and photographing... It’s just the way they’re doing it that annoys me.”

Nives grinned crookedly.

“I know a way to make them stop and feel ashamed”, she told him under her breath. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do”, he answered immediately. “What do you have in mind?”

“To give them something really worth photographing”, she chuckled. “Move your chair a little back...”

Richard did as she bid him; Nives rose and sat in his lap, slinging her arm around his shoulder, then with a big smile she turned to the three girls and waved her other arm.

“ _Questo è per voi, signorine_! This is for you, young ladies!” she said aloud, both in Italian and in English as she couldn’t know what the girls’ nationality was.

Blown and openly exposed, the three young women had the good grace to blush hard. Clearly made uncomfortable by the other customers’ looks – some surprised, some reproachful – they quickly put away their mobiles and one, apparently the most well-behaved of the trio, made a shy nod of thanks, which Nives accepted blatantly, resulting in making them even more uncomfortable.

Nives sat back into her chair with a ferocious smile. Raffaella had placed one hand over her mouth to hold her mirth.

“Now they’re going to hide in shame, those three lasses!” she chuckled in Roman dialect. As he had started _tuning up_ with it, Richard understood; he grinned, amused, and Jerry did as much.

“Once more, you’re positively _terrible_ , Nives!” the Brit stated, repeating what he had said the day before.

“Mostly when I want to protect somebody I love”, she confirmed. “I hate who acts sneakily. They would’ve looked better coming here and asking for a picture, we wouldn’t have denied them...”

“Indeed”, Richard confirmed. For the second time today, he thought that, when the circumstances demanded it, Nives could show a considerable grit, but always in a classy way. In this, they were perfectly alike.

Embarrassed, the three impertinent young ladies hastened to finish whatever was still on their plates and got up, paying directly at the cashier and then disappearing.

“I suggest a toast”, said Nives, wanting to forget the incident that, though ended in an hilarious way, had been rather unpleasant. “To our friendship!”

“To our friendship!” the others repeated, raising their glasses and clinking them together.

When they finished their seafood, Roberto came and suggested a dessert called _imbollita di fichi_ , the most ancient Elban sweet, based on black figs, fennel seeds, honey and flour. Nives, though having been on Elba many times, had never had it, therefore she accepted at once, in spite of her constant care for calories – for once, she wouldn’t surely ruin her figure – and so, the others followed suit. Instead of the red Aleatico, Roberto brought them a small glass of white Moscato Passito, this too new to Nives, who wasn’t very much into raisin wines because they were too sweet for her taste, so she rarely drank them.

At the end of the meal, they had coffee and then Richard got the check, ignoring the soft growl of feigned rebuke that Jerry addressed to him. The archer had by now resigned himself to the fact that the Brit would always pay for their meals whenever they ate out.

As the historic centre of Portoferraio was mostly closed to traffic, it could be visited only on foot, but it was far too hot to do so, therefore they headed directly for the car and left for Capoliveri. When they arrived to the ice cream parlour that Raffaella had named, Jerry went to get four giant sundaes with the flavours each one had chosen earlier, placing them into the cooler they had brought with them – the same Richard and Nives had used during their _love trip in Middle-earth_ – and then rushed back to the car. Of course, the four eutectic plates they had placed into the bag had thawed long since, but the inside was still cool; nonetheless, and despite the air-conditioned inside of the Stelvio, when they arrived home twenty minutes later, the ice creams had begun dripping, so they placed them hastily into the freezer. Then, they went to their rooms to change into their swimsuits to end the afternoon relaxing by the pool.

That evening, as agreed, Salvo and Marcella didn’t come to prepare dinner; the two couples had their ice creams comfortably seated under the gazebo, in the light of the setting sun.

“Absolutely delicious!” Richard cried with the enthusiasm of a kid. “How is it that Italians make such excellent ice cream? In England too, the best ice cream parlours are owned by Italians, but I must say that this one’s better...”

“My friend Franco told me that the Italian school for master ice-cream-makers has a long and prestigious history”, Nives said. “Of course, there are more skilled people and less skilled people... I think for instance that Franco is superlative, and not only because he’s a friend of mine.”

“Well, his ice cream is truly outstanding”, the actor confirmed. “Especially the dark chocolate is unmatched.”

“I think that’s a recipe of his invention”, Nives commented. “But this, too, is excellent”, she decreed, sucking her spoon with such a greedy face that had everyone laughing.

When they finished, Raffaella and Nives volunteered to clear away the empty bowls and the spoons. In the kitchen, the Roman woman looked at her friend with an impish face.

“Hey, did you already make love with Richard in the Jacuzzi?” she asked her. Nives chuckled.

“Not yet, but isn’t the water a little too cold, at this time of the night?” she replied.

“I didn’t mean the pool’s, but the one in your bathroom”, Raffaella made clear.

“Oh... I didn’t consider it. With this heat, it never crosses my mind to use the tub, only the shower”, she then grinned naughtily. “I’ll surely follow your advice”, she concluded.

“Fine! In the cabinet next to the tub you’ll find the suited bath oils: choose the fragrance you prefer. I recommend also the use of bicarbonate: it makes the water massage even more effective for relax and tone-up. Oh, and there are also tealights for atmosphere."

“Wow, that’s a true spa treatment”, Nives joked. Raffaella’s smile broadened.

“Later you’ll tell me”, she whispered. “Jerry and I like it very much”, she added, winking. The two women exchanged mischievous grins, giggling like teenagers planning a prank.

They washed the plastic bowls and tossed them into the special container, then they returned to the men.

“Tonight I’m up for the Jacuzzi”, Nives said, looking at Richard with a smirk. “The tub is big enough for two people...”

The Brit shot up like a spring.

“If you’ll excuse me, I suddenly feel like bathing in a Jacuzzi”, he winked at the other two.

“Enjoy yourselves!” Jerry yelled laughing at their backs, then he looked at Raffaella. “Well, it wouldn’t be a bad idea, going to bed early tonight...” he added, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Not at all”, she agreed, beaming.

OOO

The bathroom next to Nives’ and Richard’s room had a wooden platform surrounding the round tub, making it looking like a pool; it filled one end of the room with stone walls and exposed wooden beams ceiling. Nives found the tealights where Raffaella had told her and lighted them to create a romantic atmosphere, as lukewarm water was filling the bathtub. Meanwhile, Richard took the bottles of essential oils; they chose lavender and used the prescribed dose. The air filled with scent.

When the tub was full enough, Nives activated the water massage and looked at Richard.

“You go first”, she said, giving him a smile full of promises. He needed no encouragement and quickly undressed, and then plunged into the bubbling water. As soon as he was seated, he turned his face to look at Nives, discovering she had already started undressing and now she wore only bra and knickers, the same matching pieces in white _broderie anglaise_ she was wearing when she had welcomed him the day he had arrived at her home. His eyes roamed over her lovely shape, appreciating every curve; predictably, his blood rushed south and his manhood started to move to stand at attention. He thought that the creature he had before him was the most beautiful, sweetest and fantastic woman in the whole universe. He was madly in love with her, and he was lucky enough that she loved him back with as much fervour.

Richard’s devouring gaze aroused Nives like the most erotic of caresses; taking advantage of the fact she had to pull up her hair in order not to wet it and to remove her makeup, she decided to prolong the wait a little longer to make their upcoming love act even more exciting. She rolled up her hair on top of her head and, looking for a hairclip, she turned toward the sink. She heard Richard’s sigh and smiled impishly: the back of her knickers were cut Brazilian-style, partially uncovering her buttocks, and decorated with a silk bow right above the crease between them. After fixing her hair, with deliberate slowness she took a wet wipe and began removing her makeup.

“Woman... this waiting’s killing me”, Richard warned her; his tone, low and vibrant, made a shiver running down her spine.

“I need just a few more moments”, she told him, glancing at him in the mirror. “Then I’ll be all yours...”

“I’ll take your word!” the actor exclaimed. His erection was nearly painful and demanded relief by the second; he really didn’t know how long he would hold back before jumping out of the water to claim his woman until she was screaming in pleasure...

Hearing the urgency in his voice, matching hers, Nives hurried to finish wiping away pencil and mascara, then tossed the tissue into the bin. Turning to Richard, she unhooked her bra and dropped it on the floor, and then she quickly got rid of her knickers.

Richard felt breathless seeing her finally completely naked; he had seen her many other times, but he felt still entranced.

Nives caught fire under his equally avid and admired gaze; she was sure she would never get used to the feel of being so much desired, even adored by a man as fantastic as Richard.

Richard raised his gaze to meet hers and extended his hand, inviting her to join him. Feeling her heart thumping hard in her chest, Nives moved and entered the tub, on her lips a slight smile expressing her thrill. She turned her back to him and slowly lowered herself between his legs.

Richard appreciated the view of Nives’ attractive _B-side_ ; as soon as she was seated, he grasped her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. She closed her eyes and relaxed against him, overjoyed: in her fan fiction, there was a very similar scene between Nerwen and Aryon.

“It’s nice here...” she whispered with an ecstatic sigh.

“Wonderfully nice”, the Brit confirmed, brushing her neck with his lips, then he turned her on one side and took her mouth in a tender kiss. Nives lifted one arm, placing her hand on his cheek, and parted her lips, deepening the kiss. He responded at once; in just moments, their kiss went from tender to passionate and both sighed in mutual desire.

Richard slipped one hand between their bodies, cupping one breast and brushing its nipple with his thumb; against his fingertip, he felt it hardening and standing up to seek his caresses.

Nives reciprocated brushing his chest; against her hip, she felt his male hardness and, yearning to touch him, she lowered her hand and closed her fingers around it. She slid her hand up and down; Richard groaned into her mouth and withdrew a little.

“Baby”, he gasped. “You’re taking a big risk, this way...”

“Mmmhhh.. _big_ , yeah, and _hard_ , too...” she murmured hoarsely, cheeky like only he was able to make her. In response, Richard moved his hips, rubbing himself into her hand.

“Ah, then you _like_ it...” he teased her. Nives giggled.

“I’m going to show you just _how much_...” she fired back, raising and straddling his legs, ready to make him slide inside of her; but Richard stopped her.

“Oh no, baby”, he whispered. “I too want to touch you...”

He plunged one hand underwater and, sliding down her belly, he reached her womanly flower; with gentle fingers, he brushed its soft petals, parting them in preparation of the love act.

Nives heaved a sigh, shuddering in pleasure: Richard knew exactly how to touch her to have her vibrating in desire. Not yet contented, the actor bent down and took one nipple into his mouth, starting to brush it with his tongue.

“Ah...!” she cried, her breath ragged; she clang to this shoulders as he continued tormenting her deliciously. She held on a few more moments, then she yielded. “P... please...”

“Tell me what you want, my love”, Richard exhorted her softly, not stopping his sweet torture. She threw her head back, moaning.

“You...” she croaked. “Inside of me…”

“My pleasure”, the actor murmured huskily. He grabbed his rod as to prevent it floating into the water and positioned it against her, rubbing her female crease.

With a shudder of pleasure, Nives lowered herself onto him, making him slide inside her body.

They began swaying into the bubbling water, moving in unison. After a few moments, Richard straightened, positioning Nives in a different way to change the angle and find the perfect one for her. When he heard her groaning louder, he realised he had found it and stopped there, thrusting and withdrawing rhythmically, causing her to moan gradually louder as her pleasure grew inside of her. Soon enough, she began tensing into his arms, breath laboured, lips parted on a ceaseless love lament, as the peak neared. Eventually, he felt her flesh convulse around his and heard her scream of delight. With an equal scream, he joined her on the top and emptied himself inside of her, trembling hard, the pleasure of one increasing the pleasure of the other, both in body and soul.

Nives went limb into Richard’s arms, her head spinning; the actor too relaxed, propping his back against the round edge of the tub.

“Interesting way to bathe”, Richard whispered, grinning wolfishly.

“Very”, Nives confirmed, a smirk equal to his. The next day, she would thank Raffaella for her suggestion...

OOO

Jerry and Raffaella followed their friends’ example and went upstairs to their own room immediately after them.

“I’ll run our bath”, Jerry offered, then he winked. “I’ll wait for you naked in the tub...”

Raffaella didn’t let him catch her off guard and grinned.

“You weren’t considering waiting for me _dressed_ in the tub, were you?” she replied.

Jerry grinned in turn, amused as usual by his wife’s quick wits, then he headed for the next room and turned on the water to fill the tub. He added a little Epsom salt and several drops of citrus fruits essential oil, then he prepared two rolled-up towels on the tiled edge surrounding the bathtub. He undressed, placing his garment on the chair in the opposite corner, and checked the water temperature; as it was to his liking, he entered and seated himself comfortably on one end. He peeped into the bedroom through the thermal glass of the fireplace – which was unlit, of course, given the season – but Raffaella was not in sight, therefore he relaxed against the backrest and waited.

A few minutes later, Raffaella joined him, completely naked, her hair pinned on top of her head.

“Just a moment, I remove my makeup”, she said. Her husband’s ardent and appreciating stare had her heartbeat increasing and she wondered how it could be that, after near seven years after their first encounter, Jerry was still able to _stir_ her with just one glance. She decided to _stir_ him as much and she pretended to bump into one of the towels, making it drop. “Whoops...” she muttered, stooping to pick it up and offering Jerry the full view of her bare backside.

“Ha!” he exclaimed. “Wife, do you want to give me a heart attack??”

She turned with an innocent face.

“Hey, are you kiddin’ me?” she asked, angelically. “What did I do?”

“I’m going to show you right now…” Jerry grumbled, half standing up out of the bubbling water, just enough to show the evidence of his arousal. She feigned surprise.

“Oh, but look at that...” she chuckled. “I’m glad I’m still able to affect you...”

“You affect me very much”, he assured her, as an impish smirk curled the corners of his mouth. “Come here, I’ll show you.”

Raffaella returned his smirk.

“Tonight I prefer our bed”, she declared. “But meantime, we can start with cuddles...”

She quickly removed her makeup, then she entered the tub and lay down directly on Jerry.

“My favourite mattress”, she murmured, before lowering her head and kissing him.

Jerry immediately surrounded her with his arms, parting his lips to welcome avidly his wife’s kiss. 

“So you decided to seduce me, my mermaid?” he asked her in a low voice, when their lips broke apart for the fraction of a millimetre.

“Am I succeeding?” she countered, pulling back and brushing his lips with her index finger. He kissed its tip, therefore she retreated it, placing it on her own lips; then, she thrusted it into her mouth and darted out her tongue. Jerry’s eyes darkened with longing.

“Completely”, he answered, sitting up and lifting her with him; at this point, she found herself riding his groin. Jerry lowered his face onto her breasts and sucked one nipple into his mouth, licking it sensually. Raffaella shuddered and uttered a tiny lament of pleasure; she grabbed his head and sank her fingers into his short chestnut hair, going along his movements as he left the first breast and devoted himself to the other nipple. She felt as if going ablaze, impatient quivers travelling across her core, craving to feel her husband’s virility moving inside of her to carry her to the peaks of pleasure.

“Jerry...” she whispered.

“Raffaella... you’re so sweet, honey…” he whispered back, climbing to kiss her chest, her throat, finally reaching again her lips for a long, deep kiss.

She caressed his shoulders, then she descended his spine to the small of his back, where she brushed the start of the crease between his buttocks.

Jerry sighed; cupping her breasts, he fondled their aroused peaks with his thumbs, and she moaned.

Raffaella withdrew a little and placed her hands on his chest, caressing his pectorals and then brushing his nipples with her fingertips, returning his caresses. She felt him shuddering under her touch and, in reaction, her femininity quivered.

Jerry’s hands slid along his wife’s hips and cupped her derrière, pushing the centre of her body against his. Raffaella returned his move rubbing herself against his male sceptre. Both uttered a groan as the water seemed suddenly increase its temperature from lukewarm to boiling hot.

“Raffi...” Jerry panted, breathless. The need in his voice was so apparent that Raffaella stopped at once to tease him and drew back to look into his eyes.

“Let’s go”, she exhorted him. Rising, she grasped one of the towels ready by the tub and hurriedly dried herself. Jerry had the presence of mind to turn off the water massage before doing as much. They exited the tub and dried himself, and then, dropping their towels on the floor, hand in hand they hastened to the bedroom. Raffaella took off her hairpin, tossing it, and lay down on the bed. Caught by an irresistible impulse of passion, Jerry slipped between his wife’s knees; stooping, he placed his lips over the triangle of dark curls at the joining of her thighs, kissing it ardently multiple times. Raffaella jumped, as a love lament left her lips; yearning for more, she opened herself to Jerry, offering herself completely to him. Intoxicated by her reaction, the archer nibbled at her most sensitive spot, which had swelled up in desire, and then, longing to taste the nectar of her feminine flower, he began licking at it avidly, parting its moist petals.

Pleasure overwhelmed Raffaella and she moaned aloud, arching her back and thrusting her head into the pillow, as her hands clutched the sheets. Her response to his ministrations made Jerry dizzy and he doubled his efforts. He sank his tongue inside of her and started stimulating her with his fingers too. Incontrollable jolts shook Raffaella; she felt burning with desire even more, and convulsed tremors crossed her depths.

“Jer... Jerry!” she cried, breathless. It sounded like a plea, and had a devastating effect on him; he removed himself from her and rose above his wife’s tempting body. Their eyes met, ablaze with desire and mutual love; then, Raffaella lowered her gaze to look at her man’s symbol of masculinity, so alluringly next to her femininity, and felt her body literally beg to be filled.

“Take me, Jerry... Now!” she breathed, looking into his eyes again.

“And you take me”, the archer invited her, his voice so hoarse it was almost unrecognisable. “My body, my heart, my soul...”

Once more, Raffaella was left speechless: her husband had a unique ability to be romantic and passionate at the same time. It was as if they were married for six months, not six years, she thought confusedly. Then she felt the tip of his manhood brushing the secret folds of her body, wet with desire, and then thrust inside of her with a gentle but firm movement. All of her thoughts took off; she uttered a sigh of fulfilment and lifted her legs to surround Jerry’s waist; the couple started moving rhythmically, mutually giving and receiving a kind of pleasure that went beyond flesh, instilling itself in their hearts and souls.

Jerry’s head spun; it always happened, with Raffaella. When he was with her, within her, he felt as if the world vanished and only the two of them remained, joined in the love act, and the sensation intoxicated him. He propped on his arms, seeking an angle that would take him to sink even more into his wife’s warm body and that he knew would satisfy her even more. When she uttered a moan, confirming he had hit it, he kept the position and increased the vigour and the width of his thrusts, impatient to reach the peak along with her. Mostly, they both liked lingering and have their embrace last as long as possible, but this time was one of those they were instead overwhelmed with craving, therefore he didn’t spare himself, his eyes into hers, as pleasure rose in increasingly irresistible and powerful waves.

The intensity of the moment, not only from the physical but also from the sentimental point of view, was making Raffaella breathless. When she felt him starting moving in the most exquisite way, she uttered a delighted sigh. Jerry was an attentive lover, generous and tender at the same time, and despite the years they had spent together, making love with him was still wonderful like in the early days of their relationship. It was the most beautiful thing in the world, because he was the man she loved with every fibre of her being and she adored expressing it through the act that, more than any other, is capable of joining bodies and souls. Then, there was no time anymore to form complete thoughts, because with a last shove, Jerry carried her to the top; she shut her eyes and uttered a loud groan, thrusting upwards to meet him as hard tremors crossed her depths.

Jerry knew Raffaella’s body well and knew exactly how and how much he had to move to give her the utmost pleasure; nevertheless, hearing her loving sighs was always very thrilling for him. Suddenly, he saw her closing her eyes and, with a particularly loud moan, she arched her back; a moment later, he felt her flesh convulse around his, in a way that triggered his own pleasure and, with an inarticulate cry, he let himself go.

For long moments, they were as if suspended in an otherworldly dimension, made of pure ecstasy, both physical and emotional, where sounds were muffled, except their love moans, and vision obscured, except the mutual one; then, they returned slowly from that celestial place, coming down again on Earth. Jerry lay on top of Raffaella, placing his arms beside her head and caressing her hair, then, lowering his head, he took her lips in a sensual but very sweet kiss, filled with all the love her felt for her.

She wrapped her arms around his upper body, her hands brushing his muscular back, and returned the kiss in the same sensual and feeling-filled way.

“I love you, Raffi”, Jerry whispered onto her lips, before kissing her again.

“I love you, Jerry...” she whispered back, filled with bliss.

They stayed this way for some time, still joined, exchanging tender caresses as they always did after their passionate activities.

Later, as they were preparing to sleep, Raffaella curled up next to Jerry; he wrapped one arm around her.

“Hey, baby”, he told her in a low voice. “I think I’m the luckiest man in the world...”

She heaved a sigh that expressed deep joy. Drawing slightly back her head, she placed a kiss on his chest.

“Well, then I’m the luckiest woman in the world”, she replied. He kissed her hair, and then both slipped into a comfortable sleep.

(*) _Queen Street_.


	11. Chapter XI: Saturday, August 15th, 2015

**Chapter XI: Saturday, August 15 th, 2015**

The Feast of the Assumption – _Ferragosto,_ as they popularly call it in Italy – had come. As agreed a few days earlier, Richard, Nives and Jerry went to the riding school as Raffaella supervised the preparations for the evening party. Though it was a public holiday, the school was open like all the touristic resorts, but today it would close two hours earlier than usual to allow everyone going home and get ready for the party at Villa d’Altariva.

Giorgio helped Nives saddling Lucky Star and then he gave her the usual ladder to mount.

As they caracoled along the dirt roads that wound in the Mediterranean scrub covering the area, Jerry observed that Nives looked comfortable on Lucky Star’s back.

“Ready for a gallop?” he asked. “I’ll be anyway right beside you, should arise any problem”, he reassured her, preventing possible hesitations.

Nives nodded: she liked galloping, as she felt it easier than trotting. At any rate, however, she asked for a refresher, that Jerry gave her willingly. “Move your weight forward, nudge your heels into Lucky Star’s sides and shake the reins, then keep leaning forward to signal that you want to go on, and go along with the horse’s natural motion. When you want to stop, do as usual: pull the reins and move your weight backwards, but do it harder than with the trot. Is it all clear?”

“Perfectly clear!” Nives answered confidently. She glanced at Richard, who smiled at her encouragingly, then she did as Jerry had instructed her and Lucky Star started obediently into a gallop. Inadvertently, she gave a cry that was both excitement and surprise; losing her balance for a moment, she moved backwards, but without pulling the reins. Confused by the conflicting commands – the backward movement meant _stop_ , but the bridles were still loose – Lucky Star slowed down, waiting for a clearer signal. Recovering, Nives chose to pull the reins and halt.

“False start”, she commented, grimacing.

Jerry was immediately at her side along with Richard and gave her a calming smile. “Don’t worry, it’s normal at the beginning, because you need to remember how exactly to do it. Try again.”

 _Memory of the body_ , thought Nives. Forgetting all the theory and the notions, she nudged again her heels into the mare’s sides, shifting her weight forward; she relaxed and this time she succeeded in maintaining the position. She went along with Lucky Star’s motion as the mare kept galloping. Jerry incited Sky to keep up with her, and Richard did as much, prompting Titano to run after the other two.

They galloped for several minutes, Nives feeling thrilled like every time. However, she was a little nervous too, because she was not enough self-confident as a rider; therefore, after some time, she decided to slow down. She moved her body backwards and pulled the reins; obediently, Lucky Star decreased to a trot, then to a walk, and Nives ceased pulling because she didn’t want the horse stopping completely. The two men did as much and placed themselves on each side of her, smiling.

“Though you ride rarely, you’re pretty good”, Jerry praised her.

“Thanks! I feel as if half drunk...”

“That’s the adrenaline”, Richard commented. “It happened to me too, at the beginning. And I admit that, from time to time, it still happens, especially when I have the chance to gallop in stunning landscapes like in New Zealand.”

“Now that’s a place I’d really like to visit”, confessed Jerry. “I’ve never been there, though I met a number of _kiwis_ at some archery contest, years ago.”

Nives laughed at the nickname the American man had used.

“The first time I heard someone calling a New Zealander a _kiwi_ , I thought about the fruit, but instead it actually refers to the bird”, she said. “Which anyway looks like a kiwi with a beak!” she added, laughing harder.

“You’re right!” confirmed Richard, who had seen a few live while filming _The Hobbit_.

They went on, alternating short runs with more slow gaits; just after 10.30 a.m., when it got hot, they decided to go back to the stables, where they freshened up the horses, and then they returned home and freshened up in turn.

The preparations for the party were in full swing, with Raffaella throwing orders left, right and centre to the workers of the catering and of the music events agency, in order to have everything positioned exactly where she wanted it. She sounded like a colonel shooting orders to the troops, Richard thought, amused. It indicated a remarkable organisational capacity.

To stay out of her way, the three riders headed for their rooms to change and then retreated to the pool, where they felt the ongoing bustle only faintly, as it was taking place in the terrace overlooking the sea. Anyway, soon after eleven o’clock, everything had been set up to Raffaella’s complete satisfaction; she offered cool drinks to all the workers and then they left.

“Everything’s okay”, she announced, joining Jerry, Nives and Richard by the pool, after having changed into a black bikini. “The fireworks are safe in your storeroom”, she added, talking to her husband and naming the room where he kept his archery gear.

“Excellent”, Jerry said, raising his thumb in the classic _okay_ sign.

“Though it’s the nth time I hire this catering and agency to do always the same things, each time they send different people”, she then commented, speaking to Nives and Richard. “Therefore, each time I have to instruct them about where and how assemble the stage and the deejay’s booth, and where to place the tables and the chairs… that sucks…”

“Why don’t you shoot photos and next time, when you book, you send them to the companies? So they’ll know how and where assemble and place everything”, Nives suggested. Raffaella stared at her, thunderstruck.

“What a _fantastic_ idea!” she cried. “Why on Earth did I never think about it?”

“Because you have never been tasked with preparing truckloads”, Nives giggled. “When I book a container, I always prepare a kind of map about what they have do load in which spot of the truck’s bed, in the most rational way possible to stuff as much goods as possible. This way, I don’t need to go out and supervise the cargo operations every single time. Here, it’s not that much different, except that, instead of drawing a map, you shoot photos…”

“I’ll do that! Thanks for the suggestion”, Raffaella beamed. “Now I’m going to bathe and refresh…”

“I’m coming with you”, Jerry said at once, despite having just bathed with the other two.

At 1.30 p.m., which was their customary time for lunch as they rarely breakfasted before 8.30 – though they usually woke rather early, but nearly always, they spent the first hour awake for _horizontal_ activities – they headed for the kitchen. The men had salami sandwiches, Raffaella a salad with hardboiled eggs and Nives a fruit salad. Afterwards, they returned by the pool to lounge under the canopies in the hottest hours of the day. The party would start at 8.30 p.m., but the catering staff would arrive one hour earlier to prepare the food and thus the buffet.

“Is it interesting?” Nives asked Richard, meaning the book he was holding, which cover pictured a lush tropical landscape. The title read _English Corsairs in the Caribbean Between History and Legend_.

“Yes, very”, Richard answered. “I’ve always been fascinated with Henry Morgan and company “, he explained.

“Ah, the Caribbean!” Nives sighed longingly. “I adore the tropics”, she added. “I’d move there, if I could... possibly to Hawaii”, she concluded dreamily.

“Is it really so beautiful, down there?” Richard asked. “I mean, compared to other tropical islands?”

“I’ve not been in many other similar places, but it’s far more beautiful than the Canary Islands or Sharm el-Sheikh, for instance”, she answered. “And consider that I was just in Oahu, while they say that it’s Maui the most striking isle of the archipelago.”

“I was in the Bahamas”, Richard told her. “Maybe we could go there, for a future holiday”, he added. “I have fond memories of Nassau: perhaps it’s not Honolulu, but I think you’d like it.”

“Okay”, she accepted readily. “For sure, it’s far nearer than Honolulu: my friend and I had a twenty-six hour trip on four different aircrafts... We vowed we’d never do it again, or if anything, we’d take a first leg to the continental States, sleep there and then travel from there to Hawaii. At the end of the journey, we were more dead than alive... We weren’t flying business class, even less top class”, she added, knowing that the actor was used to other comfort levels.

“Good grief, twenty-six hours in economy class... I can well imagine you were both exhausted”, Richard considered. “From London to Nassau, if I remember well it’s an around ten hour flight: it’s much more manageable...”

“Yeah”, Nives agreed. “Well, let’s see if and when we can do it”, she suddenly recalled something. “I’m curious to see Mario’s Facebook page... remember? The one he devoted to the two of us...”

“Oh yes! I too am curious...”

Nives grabbed her smartphone and connected to the home Wi-Fi; she easily found the page and, though she had known in advance, she was astounded by the hundreds of _likes_ she saw on the numerator, as well as by the enthusiastic comments on the images about her and Richard – actually not many, and often repeated, because of course they weren’t numerous – or of Richard alone, possibly in a pensive stance, as if sad because he missed her. Ultimately, it was a very romantic page and she felt moved.

As top post, there was the picture Raffaella had shot of her and Richard with Mario, with the comment _An unexpected encounter – in Portoferraio! I had the great luck to bump into Richard and Nives. They were both so kind as to accept taking a picture with me, with the help of a friend of theirs. What an amazing emotion!!!_

“How nice of Mario!” Nives exclaimed, then she looked at Richard. “I think you can tweet about it”, she suggested. “Saying you learned there’s a page on Facebook devoted to you and me, thanking for the nice thought... or do you believe it inappropriate?”

Richard reflected seriously on the matter.

“It would be nice giving public satisfaction to that guy”, he answered at length. “But I’m afraid that this would stir the envy of other people and so I’d do more harm than good. It already happened, regrettably, though not to me; that’s why I chose to never comment the tweets I receive from my fans. It’s not haughtiness; I simply don’t want to treat anyone differently from the other ones: if I start answering to one, fairness would demand I should answer to all...”

“You’re perfectly right”, Nives agreed. “I didn’t think of that... Sadly, we have always to deal with the worse part of the fandom”, she concluded, sighing.

“That’s right”, he confirmed. “But we met Mario in person and he can prove it with the pictures, and we thanked him too in person, what’s more important than doing it via any social network.”

“This goes without a doubt! Wait, I take the opportunity to send a Whatsapp message to my dad and tell him we’re resting and having lots of fun...”

“Talking about tweets”, Richard said. “Later I want to post the selfie I took in front of the villa... what’s the name of the first Napoleonic residence we visited?”

“San Martino.”

“Thanks. So my fans will be glad, I know they like my selfies a lot.”

“You can post the group picture too, perhaps cutting out Jerry and Raffaella: we don’t want anyone recognising them and realising we’re staying with them”, Nives suggested. He hesitated for a moment: he didn’t like to expose his fiancée to his fandom, where she sadly had some detractors; but she was right: their picture with Mario was already public knowledge, he could as well publish another personally.

“If it’s okay with you...” he therefore said, looking at her for confirmation. Nives nodded.

“Yes, do it, your fans will be happy”, she said: she hadn’t quitted being a fangirl yet and doubted she would ever do it. “At least, those supporting our relationship...” she added, shrugging. She was downplaying, but Richard knew how much she felt hurt whenever someone turned on her just out of envy.

“I don’t consider my fans those who speak ill of our love”, he declared; in his voice vibrated a steel note that reminded John Porter or Guy of Gisborne when confronting an antagonist, a clear sign of his aversion towards that unpleasant part of his fandom.

When time came to begin readying for the party, the foursome headed upstairs to their rooms to wash and dress up.

As Nives was showering, Richard posted the tweet with their pictures in front of the Villa San Martino, commenting them with the words _Yesterday with Nives in front of a piece of History_. Then, he checked on a few accounts of his friends, among them some of his colleagues who had starred with him in _The Crucible_ , and when he returned to his profile, he was thrilled to see already around one-hundred _hearts_ – the equivalent of Facebook’s _likes_ – and many comments. Glancing through them, he read many _have fun, guys_ and _be happy together_ , and was heartened. He found also a comment by Lorraine, Nives’ French friend living in Venice, who of course followed him in Twitter; she wrote _You’re both gorgeous! I hope you had fun there!_ He chuckled: if only word would spread that she was Nives’ friend, they would harass her, so he had to pretend he didn’t know her, nor Jerry and Raffaella, who also were his followers.

When Nives finished showering, it was Richard’s turn. The dress code for the evening was _casual-chic_ , therefore Nives chose a black miniskirt with a red one-shoulder shirt, and mid-heeled thong sandals, suitable for dancing. Richard put on stonewashed jeans with a white t-shirt and the perforated shoes he had purchased in Capoliveri, an outfit that recalled a photoshoot from a few years before.

Raffaella instead chose a purple slip dress and stiletto-heeled white sandals, and Jerry donned dark blue jeans and a light blue t-shirt highlighting his eyes, with cool perforated loafers.

The guests began to arrive; the first were Giorgio with his wife Laura – they had left their eight-year-old daughter with her grandparents to enjoy a night as _fiancées_ – who was a beautiful Sicilian woman with short raven-black hair. Then came the collaborators of the estate and of the riding school with their escorts, and Marcella with Salvo, in total around thirty people. Giorgio and Jerry had told their employees about the presence of the famous British actor Richard Armitage: both had used a polite but firm tone in asking an appropriate behaviour, and especially requesting that nobody would spread the news to anyone and under no circumstances that he was a guest at Villa d’Altariva. They trusted their employees, but as the old saying goes, _confidence is good, but control is better_ ; besides, it is always advisable not assuming anything.

Annalisa, one of the collaborators of the estate, who had come with her boyfriend, was a fan of Richard’s and didn’t conceal her thrill in meeting him in person, but she behaved impeccably. Not wanting to risk bothering the actor, she asked Nives – whom she had known for years – if she thought he would accept taking a photo with her.

“You could shoot the picture with your phone”, she suggested. “You’ll forward it to me once your holiday is over, so you’ll be sure I won’t send it out.”

“That’s an excellent idea”, Nives approved, happy about the discretion and consideration that Annalisa was showing about their privacy. “I’m going to ask him at once.”

The Brit thought he had no reason to deny such a polite request and therefore Nives immortalised Annalisa and Richard with her smartphone. As expected, there were more requests for photos, and for everybody they adopted the same policy, that is, Nives would sent them the pictures after the end of their holidays. Of course, there was the chance of someone shooting secretly, but even so, if was unlikely that they would spread them around, as it would upset their employers. Actually, it was just a matter of common sense.

At this point, the catering waiters – who were in turn people of proven discretion, and anyway used to deal with VIPs – started serving the aperitif, one alcoholic, based on Prosecco and orange juice, the second non-alcoholic, with kiwi and pineapple juice, coming with appetizers of puff pastry stuffed with pieces of frankfurter or cheese or tomato, and stuffed olives and even mignon pizzas. Meanwhile, the deejay had started playing soft music, as Raffaella had instructed him; later, he would change into dance music of different genres, from ballroom music to Caribbean and disco. 

When they finished the aperitif, they passed on to the proper buffet, where delicious food was set out: pasta salad, mushroom lasagne, ricotta and spinach ravioli, as well as courgettes roulades stuffed with cream cheese, grilled beef skewers and thin slices of roasted turkey. There were also many vegetables, both raw with vinaigrette and grilled, sandwiches and canapés, several cured pork meats with thick homemade bread sticks, mozzarella-and-cherry-tomato skewers, mini smoked salmon cheesecakes, mussels au gratin, and fish fry. There was enough for everyone, for all tastes and all food preferences.

At this point, before the catering would bring to the buffet also the sweets, dances began. Raffaella and Jerry got the ball rolling with a lively salsa, followed suit by Nives and Richard, encouraging everybody to join in. After several Caribbean pieces came ballroom music, such as waltz and foxtrot, slow foxtrot and tango, and then came disco music; luckily, a breeze from the sea ventilated the terrace and therefore the dancers didn’t suffer too much from the heat.

Later there was a break, during which the catering brought the desserts: _panna cotta_ with soft fruit sauce, strawberry mousse and rum fruit salad with melon and watermelon, all of them served into multi-coloured plastic cups. It was almost eleven o’clock and at this point, Jerry prepared the fireworks; using all the due precautions, he launched them one after the other. Against the black sky, the guests admired bright coloured trails that became fountains and spirals, waterfalls and Catherine-wheels, weeping willows and garlands, which aroused laughs and applauses. In the end, everybody complemented Jerry, except Nives, whose face showed an exaggerated disappointment. Realising at once that she was planning some joke, the archer played along and faked a great concern.

“Nives, didn’t you like my fireworks?” he asked.

“Oh well, you know...” she muttered, trying to keep her hilarity at bay. “I liked them enough... but compared to Gandalf’s, you have a lot to learn. Think about his Fire-Breathing Dragon!” she concluded laughing. Jerry laughed aloud in turn, and so did Richard and Raffaella who had witnessed their exchange.

“In Jerry’s defence, I must say that I have never seen dragon-shaped fireworks so far”, Richard declared.

“Neither did I”, Raffaella confirmed.

They danced some more, drinking a lot to cool down; Richard, not much used to wine, was a little tipsy and, unlike his personality, was laughing and jesting rather noisily. Noticing it, Nives stopped him as he was about to have another glass.

“Alcohol makes you thirstier... better an orange juice.”

He certainly was no drunkard, but she wanted to keep him from a terrible hangover.

“You’re right”, the actor admitted, placing down the glass and taking the one she was handing him instead, full to the rim with delicious red orange juice. “But the Vermentino is so good and cold that it goes down without notice...”

“And that’s where you get fooled”, she laughed. “Many years ago, in a summer night like this, I got almost drunk with only one glass of white wine, very cold and very inviting. It was a really close call!”

Around midnight, the guests began to leave; the catering workers took with them the remaining food and drinks, as well as tables and chairs, while the stage and the deejay’s booth would be disassembled the next day: these agencies never rest and work rather more than less during vacations and holidays.

Going into the house, Richard asked Raffaella if she had any aspirin.

“Yes, of course”, she immediately answered, worried. “Are you unwell...?”

“No, no, relax”, the actor reassured her. “But I had a little too much wine, as Nives pointed out, and taking a couple of aspirins with much water is an excellent way to prevent possible aftermaths.”

“No, wait”, Nives intervened. “My sommelier friends, Roberto and Clara, researched this very well, medically even, and advised me against taking NSAID drugs, because it generates gastric issues... but as alcohol dehydrates the body, starting from the red blood cells, drinking much water is a very good idea. Better a detoxifying infusion, like artichoke or dandelion, but I don’t know if you have any, Raffi...”

“I have the detoxifying infusion by Pompadour”, the latter answered, naming a famous Italian brand of herbal and fruit infusions.

“I think it’s fine. I’m going to prepare a cup at once...”

“You don’t want to get me a hot drink in this heat...?” the Brit enquired, perplexed.

“Man of little faith!” he reproached him laughing. “Go on and get a shower, meanwhile I’ll prepare the infusion... Wait for me in our room; I’ll join you as soon as it’s ready.”

As both men went upstairs, Raffaella accompanied Nives to the kitchen; she too was perplexed.

“You’re really going to prepare a hot infusion?” she asked, seeing her friend placing a small pan on the stove.

“Of course”, Nives confirmed. “The curative infusions must be prepared with hot water; but just use little water, allow to steep and then add cold water, and if it’s not enough, even ice, so you get a cool beverage, but with all the benefits of the herbs.”

Raffaella was dumbfounded, and then she laughed. “It’s so simple that I never thought about it!”

Nives laughed in turn. “Lisa, my herbalist friend, taught me. It’s a little like reinventing the wheel!”

Soon enough, the water was boiling and Nives poured it into a mug with one infusion bag of the depurative mixture, containing dandelion, chamomile, turmeric and fennel, filling it to about a third. While waiting for the infusion to be ready, the two friends chatted, commenting on the lovely evening; then, Nives disposed of the bag and added cold water. In the end, the beverage was just a little lukewarm and she judged it suitable, therefore they went upstairs to their bedrooms.

Nives found Richard already in bed.

“Here, drink it up”, she recommended, handing him the mug. “It may not taste as good as Vermentino, but you’ll see that it will prevent possible hangover troubles.”

“But I’m not drunken”, he protested, quite embarrassed that she could think he was.

“I see that”, Nives reassured him. “But you’re not used to drink so much wine, and it’s better prevent than cure”, she translated the old Italian saying literally, as she didn’t know its equivalent in English, but Richard grasped its meaning nonetheless and nodded his agreement. “Your liver will thank you”, she added, smiling softly.

“Very well”, he accepted, taking the mug. “Oh, but it’s almost cold!” he cried in surprise.

“I told you that you’re a man of little faith”, Nives chuckled.

“Next time I’ll shut up”, Richard grinned, then he took a sip and pulled a face. “Ugh, after the Vermentino, this stuff isn’t great…”

Nives burst into laughter.

“Oh come on, don’t be a baby, refusing the medicine because it tastes bitter”, she teased him; he just stuck his tongue out to her, and then laughed in turn.

“I’ll grab a shower”, she then announced. “Dancing in this heat was like taking a sauna…”

When she returned to the bedroom, Richard had finished his herbal tea and was waiting for her comfortably resting on his back.

“Lovely party”, Nives commented, lying down next to him and cuddling up into his arms.

“Yeah, I had a great time”, the actor declared, holding her tenderly.

“Me too”, she stated, then hid a yawn behind her hand. “Goddess I’m so sleepy…”

“Then sleep, _amore mio_ ”, (*) Richard whispered, turning off the light. “Good night and sweet dreams…”

“With you, always”, she whispered back, feeling blessed and overjoyed like every time she was in Richard’s arms; soon enough, she drifted into sleep, and he did as well.

OOO

In the other room, Jerry was waiting for Raffaella in bed, naked except his black brief boxers; despite showering, he felt still hot. He too had had a little too much wine, but after so many years in Italy, he was more used than Richard at holding his liquor and he was therefore less affected. Anyway, when he had come into the room, he was very thirsty: Nives was right, alcohol dehydrates, and therefore he had drunk from the sink tap, grateful that in Italy, unlike the States and other countries he had visited, tap water wasn’t saturated with chlorine to the point of being undrinkable.

Waiting for Raffaella, the archer exchanged a couple of Whatsapp messages with his daughter Alyssa – it was mid-afternoon, in California – but when he heard her entering, he raised his eyes from the phone screen and smiled at her; she beamed back, closed the door and headed for the bathroom.

“I’m going to freshen up”, she said. “Back in a minute!”

Jerry nodded; in the meantime, he finished the conversation with Alyssa, then he turned off the cellphone and placed it onto the bedside table.

Raffaella was back less than ten minutes later, wearing only her knickers; Jerry watched her in appreciation and she smiled, feeling as usual very flattered about her husband’s admiration.

“Nice party, he?” she said, lying down next to him.

He took her into his arms. “Indeed lovely.”

“The formula is well-tested”, she commented, pleased. “And I’m happy that all of the guests behaved themselves around Richard. I was a little worried, I won’t deny it…”

“They’re all intelligent people”, the archer affirmed, smiling; he kissed Raffaella’s brow. “Good night, honey”, he wished her, before turning off the light.

“Good night, _amò_ …”

(*) my love


	12. Chapter XII: Sunday, August 16th, 2015

**Chapter XII: Sunday, August 16 th, 2015**

The next morning, Nives woke up at seven o’clock as usual. She rose very quietly to go to the bathroom and when she came back, she found Richard still sleeping; she slipped again under the sheet and closed her eyes, determined to wait patiently that he would awake, because she absolutely didn’t want to disturb him.

About half an hour later, Richard stirred and, sighing, he woke up; he immediately felt Nives’ presence beside him and smiled softly, because he adored waking up this way.

“ _Buongiorno, amore mio_ ” (*), he heard her whispering in Italian, apparently awake already.

“ _Buongiorno a te, mio tesoro_ ”, (**) he answered in the same tongue. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks, and you?”

“Certainly, because with you beside me, I always sleep well… Though I must say that, with you, I’d rather stay _wide awake_ …” he kissed her, finding her lips in the darkness, then he got up and crossed to the window to open the shutters; returning to bed, he pulled a face. “I must admit that my head feels heavy… Thank goodness, you prevented me to drink more: I could’ve got sloshed without even noticing”, he concluded, frowning: he didn’t want Nives seeing him drunk.

“I thought as much, that’s why I stopped you”, she explained. “Actually, it’s a matter of habit: should you drink wine at every meal as we use to do here in Italy, you’d hold it much better. Don’t worry, another herbal tea like yesterday will fix your liver up. And this morning, no eggs and bacon, but fruits, bread and honey. And tea, not coffee, as the latter burdens the liver and troubles an upset stomach.”

“Hey, what are you, a naturopath?” Richard asked, smiling.

“Of course not”, Nives smiled in return. “But my ice-maker friend Franco is, who isn’t a naturopath by profession because in a town as small as mine you don’t make a living with just that; he taught me a lot. Besides, I have a friend called Lisa who’s an accomplished herbalist and I consult her often”, she concluded. “Not to mention that I have a passion for herbs and natural treatments since I was a teenager and I never stopped reading up.”

“Well, I too avoid chemical medicines, whenever possible… When I was starring in _The Crucible_ , I had to stress my voice very hard…” Nives nodded, remembering how much he had talked and shouted on stage. “…therefore I used many remedies for my throat, but almost all natural: syrups, drops and tablets from the herbalist rather than from the chemist.”

“I do as much”, she agreed. “Of course, should I have a high fever, I use a…” she paused on the word _antipyretic_ , as she didn’t know the English word for it. “A chemist’s medicine”, she concluded, borrowing Richard’s words. “Do you want us to go downstairs now, so I can prepare your infusion?”

He looked at her, a naughty gleam in his eyes, and a smirk curled his lips sideways in that characteristic way that Nives found irresistible.

“I don’t feel _that_ bad”, he murmured, pulling her to him.

They needed over half an hour to leave the bed.

OOO

When Jerry awoke, he found that Raffaella was no longer in bed; hearing the sound of water in the bathroom, he realised that she was there. He rose and opened wide the window, allowing the August morning’s sunshine and the air to rush in. It was still cool, but it wouldn’t last long.

Soon enough, Raffaella came in and found him looking out of the window; she joined him and hugged him from behind. Jerry had heard her coming and closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of her bare breasts on his back, as well as her arms around his waist.

“Good morning, honey”, he said in a low voice. Raffaella smiled at the endearment, sweet both in name and tone.

“Good morning to you, _amò_ ”, she replied softly. Jerry smiled in turn at his wife’s unmistakable Romanism. He turned and wrapped his arms around her, stooping to kiss her dark hair.

“With you, it’s always a _wonderful_ day”, he stated in a soft voice.

“Same here…” Raffaella whispered, pulling him closer and half-closing her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of her skin against his. Jerry tenderly cradled her closer still before cupping her cheeks and kissing her.

Raffaella slipped her arms behind his back and pressed herself flush to him, parting her lips to welcome his kiss. Her ardent response set him aflame; with a groan, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed, where they spent some time exchanging passionate caresses.

OOO

Later, they went downstairs, heading for the kitchen, where they found Nives and Richard already breakfasting.

“Well, hullo”, Jerry greeted them. “Rich, ol’ man, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, thanks to Nives’ herbal tea”, the Brit answered. “And you?”

“No complaints… but you’re not getting eggs and bacon today, why so?” he wondered.

“No such food”, Nives answered. “Better avoid things that weight on the liver, as yesterday evening he filled it up with ethanol… This morning, fruits, bread, honey and tea”, she turned to Richard. “Love, for lunch I’d suggest you a salad with croutons and a fruit salad, but no strawberries nor kiwis, as they are too acidic. Tonight you can go back eating normally and even drinking wine or beer.”

“Yes, ma’am!” exclaimed Richard, snapping to attention.

Nives blushed. “Oh goodness, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so authoritarian! Actually, these are only suggestions to metabolize alcohol more quickly. You don’t have to follow them, though, if you’re not willing”, she concluded, embarrassed. “I apologise…”

“Hey, no, I was just kidding”, he reassured her. “Actually, I think your suggestions are excellent and therefore I’m going to follow them to the letter.”

“What do you think, Nives, should I too have tea, this morning?” Raffaella asked at this point.

“Only if you feel a little sick”, her friend answered. “As for me, just to be sure, I’m doing like Richard. After all, I too did booze more than usual” she concluded.

“And this way, I feel less _weird_ ”, the Brit grinned. “I mean, having fruits early in the morning… I have never done that before!”

“There’s a first for everything”, Nives replied, seraphic.

“But should I have tea, I don’t know if the caffeine boost will last throughout the morning”, Raffaella objected, slightly unsure because she usually functioned on coffee.

“If you have a good black tea and make it strong enough, it’ll last, believe me”, Nives assured her. “Add one extra spoon of sugar, if you think it’s too bitter, and lemon or milk to taste.”

“Milk, no sugar”, Raffaella decided, as she liked it this way.

“Indian style”, Richard commented. “Widespread custom in Britain, too; but the true English tea is to the natural.”

“Exactly the way I like it”, Nives declared. “So much so that a London barman told me I was being _very British_!” she concluded, laughing while recalling her first time in London.

Jerry and Raffaella decided to have breakfast as Nives had suggested.

“Everyone has their favourite way to have both tea and coffee”, Raffaella observed. “As for coffee, we can have no sugar, extra sweet, espresso, long, plain, with spirits to taste, white coffee with cold milk, with hot milk, in a large cup, in a glass…” she laughed seeing Richard’s incredulous glance. “Ha, you have no idea how many variations there are on the _ordinary_ coffee, here in Italy!”

Nives too laughed. “And you didn’t name the combinations: sweet and white with grappa, rather than bitter, long and in a glass, and so on… Make room for imagination!”

“You should try them all, Rich!” Jerry suggested, grinning; his friend nodded, grinning in turn.

“Not until tomorrow”, Nives recommended. “And, should you feel our stomach upset, today, please tell me, so I can give you a suitable infusion. As for me, I’ll surely have one.”

“What would you need, in case?” Raffaella asked, wanting to check if she had the right herbs.

“Ideally, linden and lemon balm, or just one of them; but also the common chamomile is good.”

“That, I have”, Raffaella declared, satisfied.

In the morning, they had another ride; again, Nives tried the gallop, always with Jerry at her side, ready to intervene in case of need, but she was already regaining confidence.

“A little more and you’ll be as good as me”, the American man encouraged her as they rode back to the riding school.

“Now that’s too much!” Nives laughed. “I may be a natural rider, but I cannot compete with your experience.”

Jerry smiled and shrugged. “That came with constant exercise, which in turn comes from passion. A little like you with dancing or writing…”

“Speaking of writing”, said Richard. “I remember you telling me that Raffi, too, writes…”

“Yep”, Nives confirmed. “And it was precisely that – the shared passion for writing – what got us close at once, Raffi and me. Then, we discovered that we shared many other things, including a passion for Tolkien’s work.”

“I will always be grateful to Tolkien”, Richard declared. “Because though it was Lorraine to bring us together physically, it actually all started with the Oxfordian Professor.”

“You’re right”, Nives agreed softly. “Tolkien truly deserves our deepest gratitude.”

She held out her hand to Richard and he took it. Jerry observed how their eyes were particularly bright and smiled by himself, ever more convinced that the British actor was the right man for Nives.

They arrived at the riding school; it was Giorgio’s day off, therefore, unlike the previous times, it was a female collaborator of his to take care of their mounts. They thanked her – though it was her job and she was getting paid for it, they all thought that politeness was always a valuable addition – and when they returned home, they found that the workers had already come and were almost done with the disassembly of the equipment they had used the night before.

After having changed, they headed for the pool. Nives had her usual after-ride Jacuzzi-time and Richard joined her; though it was only her who needed it, to ease the fatigue of the unusual workout, it was pleasant for him too, and besides, it was pleasant to do it together.

At 1.30 p.m. they headed for the kitchen to prepare lunch; neither Richard nor Jerry had shown any stomach issues, therefore Nives thought they could eat normally, if they wanted to. They stuffed a few sandwiches with cooked ham, while Nives had her usual selection of fresh fruit.

“How can you do it?” asked Raffaella, pointing to her dish. “I don’t know if I could resist the temptation, especially seeing others eating whatever they want…”

“I don’t always succeed”, Nives smiled, biting into a juicy piece of honey-melon. “But it’s mainly a matter of will… supported by stubbornness, vanity and pride”, she concluded with great auto-irony. “At the time I decided to go on a slimming diet, to help me stay committed I set a goal: to lose enough weight as not to be ashamed to wear a miniskirt. A truly stupid goal, you might say one of pure vanity, but it’s what made me persist, especially in the latest part when I was losing weight very slowly, only two or three hundred grams per week. In the end, I lost even more than what I had proposed, and not only I was able to wear a miniskirt without feeling uncomfortable, but I was satisfied with a bikini too.”

“Oh, I too am satisfied with your bikini”, Richard jested, his eyes cheekily roaming her lovely curves. Nives burst into laughter, but at the same time, she blushed tomato-red at his obviously appreciative tone. She couldn’t believe that Richard, who worked in a world made of stunningly – to say the least – beautiful women, would think _her_ attractive…

They all laughed, but when the hilarity was over, Raffaella commented earnestly. “I am lucky, my physique doesn’t put on weight, therefore I cannot imagine what it is like to sacrifice in order to lose weight and I have no idea if I actually could do it… I admire you for being able to succeed.”

“Thank you, but this really isn’t that much: you just need to find the right motivation, not only to be on a diet, but for anything else. And the motivation doesn’t have to be grand or important, look at me who wanted to put on a miniskirt. It just needs to be the right one.”

Richard elbowed her gently in the side, as she had done to him a few days ago.

“Who’s the one running themselves down, right now?” he reprimanded her, his tone kind but his brow furrowed. Nives was speechless, not knowing what to answer.

“Hum, he’s right”, Jerry interjected, concealing an amused smirk.

“Yeah”, Raffaella reinforced the message.

“But I really don’t feel it as anything special”, Nives protested. “It’s truly just a matter of finding the right motivation. Think about the incredible things one does for love…”

“True”, Richard admitted. “But you’re still running yourself down”, he repeated, grasping her hand and taking it to his lips. “And I won’t let you do it.”

She renounced to protest any longer; anyway, she had trouble reasoning with Richard petting her this way, even just kissing her fingers.

“Okay then”, she gave in.

As they finished their lunch, they tidied up the kitchen and walked out to the pool again, to lay down on the sunbeds waiting for the hottest hours of the day to pass. Later, they took a swim in the pool, grateful for the cool water.

“Good thing it’s not muggy”, Raffaella commented. “I remember some summers in Rome… it was truly terrible!”

“You’re right”, Nives confirmed. “As I said on several occasions, better 40 degrees in dry weather than 30 in sultry…”

“Climate has changed, there’s no argument”, Richard stated.

“True!” Jerry agreed. “They can tell us differently as much as they want, but we see that all too well.”

“Unfortunately, there are powerful people who want us to believe otherwise, only because of their dirty profits”, Nives affirmed, wrinkling her brow. “We already have the needed technologies to stop using oil-based machines; but they’re still expensive and not as profitable as petroleum. However, if they were farsighted, they would make those technologies cheaper by investing enough financial resources _now,_ and then _later_ they’d see their incomes, not to speak about the fact that, if it goes on like now, they’ll kill their own grandchildren, if not their children. But no, they want… _an egg today instead of a hen tomorrow_ …”

She translated the last sentence literally, as she didn’t know if in English there was a similar saying; but Richard grasped it nonetheless.

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”, Jerry delivered the equivalent, “You pinpointed the problem”, he then added.

“Let’s talk about it no more”, Nives exhorted them. “I don’t want to ruin the mood discussing too serious matters...”

“That’s anyway okay”, Raffaella reassured her. “After all, serious matters too belong to friendship, and it’s plain that the four of us are friends.”

“ _Good_ friends”, Jerry specified with a beam and Richard nodded in agreement: he was by now convinced he had found two new, wonderful friends in Raffaella and Jerry.

“What about going to Cavoli tomorrow?” Nives suggested. It was the location where they usually used to go for snorkelling, about which they had discussed a few days earlier.

“I’m in”, Raffaella accepted at once.

“Then we’ll get up at seven”, Jerry admonished them. “We need to be there at nine at the latest to find parking, and it takes over an hour to get there”, he then explained for Richard.

“No problem”, the Brit declared.

Salvo and Marcella arrived as usual at 6 p.m. Marcella cooked a savoury pie stuffed with ricotta, cheeses and spicy salami, a typical recipe from Campania, served lukewarm. It was a simple but very tasty dish which everyone appreciated, along with a chilled rosé wine, of course by Altariva Estate. After dinner, Richard and Nives retired to Raffaella’s office to watch the stream of another episode of _Hannibal_ , and once more Nives expressed her admiration for the actor’s talent.

“Usually I totally hate serial killers in the crime series I watch”, she affirmed in a low voice. “But I cannot hate Francis Dolarhyde: though he’s a monster, you made him _human_ , because you show his great suffering as he falls prey to the Red Dragon, which devours his mind and makes him insane. The viewer feels empathy, though one cannot condone what he does... and luckily you don’t actually see what he does, only what he leaves behind...”

“That was Bryan’s precise choice”, Richard reminded her, meaning Fuller, the creator and producer of the series. “And anyway, if it was more explicit, I wouldn’t accept the role.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I remember you saying so; I’m glad you were able to confront this acting challenge: I’m sure it will give you many satisfactions.”

They returned downstairs, finding that Jerry had prepared the Monopoly game in the version dedicated to the Avengers, about which he had told them a few days before.

“Goodness, it’s been ages now since I played the last time!” Richard cried, sitting at the table under the gazebo. “I don’t even recall the rules...”

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you”, Jerry reassured him. “For a start, choose your token...”

He had already taken hold of Hawkeye – unsurprisingly – while Raffaella had selected Hulk. Always the gentleman, Richard gave Nives first choice and she opted for Thor, therefore the Brit picked Loki.

“Jerry’s choice is obvious”, he then commented. “But you ladies?”

“I adore Mark Ruffalo”, Raffaella answered smiling. “I think he’s really sweet.”

“I instead adore Chris Hemsworth, the only blond man in the world I like”, Nives confessed grinning. “But you, why Loki?”

“Tom’s a friend of mine”, Richard disclosed to everyone’s surprise.

“You’re friends? I didn’t know”, Nives said.

“We worked together in a couple of radio dramas”, the Brit told them. “And also on three voice-overs for BBC documentaries. When I was in London for _The Crucible_ , he came to see me with his fiancée Erika and then one Sunday they invited me to their house for lunch”, he arched his eyebrows. “I never thought about it before, but Erika too is Italian!”

“No, really??”

Jerry’s exclamation was echoed by the women’s.

“And perhaps she too is of Venetian origin like Nives!” Raffaella laughed.

“Or Roman, for that matter”, Nives added.

“I don’t know, I never asked. She’s been living and working in London for many years; she’s an electronic engineer dealing in security systems and that’s how she met Tom, when he purchased his house at Belsize Park and renewed the alarm system.”

“Honestly, what are the odds?” Nives wondered. “I hope to have the opportunity to meet her. Maybe she too was a fangirl!”

“Next time you come to London, if Tom’s not elsewhere filming something, we’ll make it happen”, Richard promised her.

They got back to the game; Raffaella took charge of handing out the money, Jerry the properties, and finally they cast the dice to decide who should begin.

As Monopoly games can last very long, they set a time limit of two hours and then the one who had the greatest capital – properties, buildings and money – would be the winner.

Richard turned out he was a tough cookie: he started at once to invest heavily but then stopped, enjoying the income when the adversaries fell on one of his properties; Raffaella ended up in prison so many times she lost count; Jerry kept falling on an especially expensive square owned by Nives and went bankrupt in less than one hour; Nives proved to be a bulldozer, keeping accumulating properties and buildings little by little but constantly. The second to retire was Raffaella, so the game was between Richard and Nives.

“The two adoptive brothers, rivals in the movie and in the Monopoly game too!” Jerry laughed.

“Let’s see who the winner will be”, Nives muttered, very focussed.

When they reached the time limit, they stopped and counted their capitals; Nives was the winner, but it was a narrow victory.

“Great game”, Richard declared. “I didn’t remember Monopoly being such fun!”

“Well, we can play again in a few days”, Raffaella suggested and the others nodded.

“Tomorrow we get up at seven”, Jerry reminded them all. “Breakfast, and then we’re off!”

The two couples wished each other goodnight and went to bed.

OOO

Nives was looking out of the window of the room she shared with Richard. There was no moon, as it had already set around two hours before, and the stars sparkled vividly against the black velvet of the night sky with no light pollution.

Richard had gone to the bathroom after her and Nives, feeling unusually restless, instead of going to bed had crossed to the window to watch the stars, trying to figure out what was making her feeling uneasy... After all, she was happy. As much happy as she never felt before in all her life, or so she thought. So happy, it frightened her...

And suddenly she grasped it.

The happiness she was feeling was so immense that it scared her. She was scared by the risk of losing it, this happiness she had been resigned to never feel, because she thought it just a fantasy, something inexistent in reality; beyond any hope, it had instead come to her, and what was more, through the person that less of all she would imagine would wish to give it to her: Richard Armitage, her fangirl’s dream.

The truth was that the possibility of losing him terrified her. She kept wondering what on earth Richard saw in her. She was no striking woman, she wasn’t famous, she didn’t have any particular talents, she wasn’t rich... Objectively, she knew that what he liked of her was something else, but nevertheless, she wasn’t able to convince herself that this was enough to have him loving her for the rest of his life, as she fervently wished. The feeling that it was all just a wonderful dream persisted in her heart, a dream from which sooner or later she had to wake up to confront a bitter reality, made of loneliness and despair.

She heard him coming near her and turned her head halfway; a moment later, Richard wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him.

“You look pensive...” he said in a low voice.

“I am, a little...” she admitted, leaning backwards and resting her head on his shoulder. “I was thinking that it’s wonderful being with you, so wonderful that it feels like a dream, a dream from which I’m afraid I’ll have to wake up...” she explained in a quivering voice, brushing his arm as if wanting to ascertain he was real.

Richard heard the tremor in her voice and guessed what was causing it; Nives had warned him that he had to keep reassuring her about his love, though he had hoped that, after almost one year from the beginning of their relationship, she would be convinced. However, on the other hand, it was true that, in eleven months, they had spent together exactly twenty-seven days, and it was truly too little time. He held her tighter.

“It’s all true, I guarantee”, he murmured into her hair. “But I confess that sometimes I too think it’s a dream... I wished for so long to meet the woman of my life that even now I am incredulous in front of the miracle of having met you...” he hissed her temple. “I love you so much, Nives”, he whispered. “There’s no life for me without you, just so you know. I need you as much as the air that I breathe...”

“Oh Richard...” she almost sobbed. “I love you as much...!”

She turned in his arms and raised her head; he stooped and they kissed with a sort of desperate urgency, a mutual need that rose from their souls and not only their flesh. They parted for a moment, but kissed again at once; kiss upon kiss, they kept on until they lost track of time. At a certain point, Nives realised that the bulge she was feeling against her belly was Richard’s erection; instinctively, she lowered one hand to caress it and he groaned softly.

“Baby... if you’re not serious, stop already...” he panted.

“I am _very_ serious, with you”, she assured him, closing her fingers around his desire-swollen shaft. “But only if you are as much”, she added with a naughty grin.

“You can bet on it”, the actor asserted, giving her his irresistible lopsided smirk; quickly, he lifted her and carried her to the bed, where he lay her down and joined her. He nibbled at her lips, then he kissed her again, ardently but at the same time tenderly. Nives parted her lips and interlaced her tongue with his with equal eagerness.

When they parted, they looked into each other’s eyes, as it often happened, as if wanting to look into each other’s soul. Nives smiled and cupped his cheeks, brushing his lips with her thumbs, then she lowered her hands slowly to caress the sides of his neck and his shoulders, placing them finally on his chest. At this point, she pushed him, making him rest his back. She bent down and took his mouth in a breathtaking kiss that had their hearts racing and their blood rushing; then she moved lower, caressing his neck, chest, abdomen, her hands ahead, her lips following. Richard closed his eyes sighing, enjoying her ministrations; then he felt her wrap her hand around his virility and started, as a stifled cry left his throat.

Nives caressed him; he was hard, warm, his skin as smooth as silk. She slipped down his body, nibbling his muscular abdomen, following the path of hair that from his belly-button led to the symbol of his masculinity. She heard Richard’s breathing turning erratic as she touched him erotically, then catching in his throat as she closed her lips around the tip.

“Ah! Nives...” he wheezed, overwhelmed. She kept on inflicting him her delightful torture, pleased at hearing his increasingly gasps of arousal.

Richard fisted the sheets, arching his back; the sensation of Nives’ mouth on him was devastating and was driving him crazy, leading him to completion at dizzying speed. However, this wasn’t what he wanted, not now, as much as pleasurable it was; feeling close, he therefore moved to stop her, but at this moment Nives released him and, after one last kiss, she raised her head to look at him. She saw his flushed face and glassy eyes, and couldn’t help but smirk, satisfied with having taken him where she wanted him. She had never thought she was great in bed, but Richard’s expression proclaimed something entirely different and made her feel proud of herself and her art of love. Unlike her husband, who had rarely complimented her in that respect, and then, only at the beginning of their relationship, and as a result, this had made her feel inadequate...

She lay on top of Richard and lowered her head to kiss him. He wrapped her into his arms, returning her kiss passionately.

“You want to _kill_ me”, he breathed, before rolling on his side and reversing their positions. “But now you’re going to pay...”

He searched for her mouth for another searing kiss and cupped one of her breasts, teasing its nipple between his thumb and forefinger; feeling it hardening, he left her lips and descended on her throat, nibbling its tender skin, and she threw her head back, sighing. Then, Richard slipped even lower, brushing his lips on her chest, down to the soft mounds of her breasts; he moved sideways, kissing one nipple as he lightly caressed the other. Nives plunged her fingers into his hair and sighed louder, feeling the centre of her body quiver.

He moved to her other breast, as his hand slowly crept downwards, on her belly, even lower, as far as brushing the dark curls adorning her most private spot. Yearning to feel his touch on it, Nives parted her thighs, with no inhibition whatsoever, unashamed as only Richard was able to make her; feeling him skilfully stroking her, she trembled.

“R… Richard”, she whimpered. “Oh!” she gasped, as he touched her harder. 

Elated, but also thrilled, Richard felt her arousal on his fingers.

“You’re so hot, love”, he said in a hoarse whisper. “So delicious...” he slid down her body, placing kisses on her belly. “I want to taste you...”

“Y… yes…” Nives wheezed, shuddering, longing for it. Then, Richard’s mouth was on her, tender and sensual, sweet and voluptuous at the same time; a loud moan of pleasure escaped her as she was exquisitely tormented. An unbearable heat invaded her depths and she began trembling hard.

“St... stop”, she begged him. “Oh Richard... I want you inside of me...”

He smiled secretly, flattered to be so greatly desired and, pretending to misunderstand her request, thrust his tongue into her womanly flower, tasting it deeply. She jumped hard and started thrashing about, as a heartbreaking lament escaped her lips, a celestial melody in Richard’s ears.

“I... I can’t take anymore...” Nives babbled, on the very edge of the abyss. Only now the actor left her and rose above her; he placed his hands next to her shoulders, propping on his arms, and positioned himself against her opening. Nives fluttered her eyes open and looked deeply into his.

“Look at our joining”, Richard invited her huskily. She lowered her gaze and watched him shoving himself slowly inside her body; she lost her breath, both for the pleasure of feeling his flesh entering hers and for the thrill of being, once more, merged into a single being with him, one body and one soul.

“Oh...! It’s wonderful...” she whispered, returning her eyes into his; he withdrew slowly, almost pulling completely out, then he plunged back inside of her, his gaze never leaving Nives’.

“It is... indeed... wonderful”, he confirmed, finally laying on top of her. He kept moving at a slow and steady rhythm; he half-closed his eyes listening to her amorous sighs and shifted slightly, until he found her special spot.

Nives started and her moans became higher-pitched as pleasure overflew her depths, as rushing and irresistible as a flood, raising and raising; interspersed with moans and sighs, Richard’s name fell from her lips like a litany, until she reached the peak and she felt as if swept away by a breaker. She arched her back, panting a stifled cry.

Feeling her inner muscles shaking hard, Richard tried to hold back a few moments more to prolong Nives’ bliss, but he didn’t succeed and he was sucked into a whirlpool of pleasure. A long groan left his throat, a low sound that reverberated into Nives’ ears like ineffable music.

When the paroxysm of fulfilment was over, leaving them both breathless, they relaxed into each other’s arms, savouring the mutual closeness, which went far beyond the mere physicality because it reflected itself into their hearts and souls. Nives turned her head, placing her cheek against Richard’s; he turned his face and brushed her cheekbone with his lips, and then he withdrew a little and peppered her face with kisses.

“I love you”, he whispered to her in between kisses. “I love you...”

“I love you too…” she breathed in return, then she felt him moving within her, still partially hard, and heaved a sigh of pleasure. “You make me lose my mind...”

“Glad to hear that”, Richard murmured with a wolfish grin, before sobering again. “As a man, it’s incredibly flattering for me knowing that I am able to make you lose your head to the point of making you act, let’s say, _shamelessly_. After all, I confess to you that I too feel very shameless with you; but only with you... and strictly in private”, he concluded. This was certainly typical of him: being capable of shamelessness, but only in the secrecy of their love den. It was a clear sign of his complete trust in her; and she trusted him as much.

“I forget any sense of shame with you”, she confessed at this point; she blushed, but this was something she had wanted to tell him for some time, so she went on. “Like never before in my life. The fact is that...” she faltered, looking for the best words to explain what she meant. “Many women feel uneasy with their men because they fear they will judge them, or they will make fun of them, or else, they fear to lose their partner’s respect. So it was for me, too, in the past. But with you it’s totally different... With you, I can be myself completely because I know that you will never judge me nor make fun of me, nor will I lose your respect because I’m brazen. I trust you, in each and every sense”, she concluded in a low voice.

Richard wrinkled his brow. “You mean that you were never able to trust someone enough, before...?”

She appreciated that he didn’t openly name her husband.

“Not completely... Not like I trust you. I was never able to feel wholly at ease, and that’s why I was never able to let myself totally go, or to express fantasies and wishes. For instance, I had _never_ role-played before, as you and I instead already did a couple of times”, she said, blushing even harder.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, as he always did when he wanted to stress something especially important. “You’re right, I’d never dream of judging you or, even less, to make fun of you because you lose your head during our lovemaking, or because you ask me to play with you, or to satisfy any request you might make. I feel immensely honoured that you trust me so much; though I must admit that it makes me also a little anxious, because I don’t know if I’m truly worthy of so much trust...”

He paused because she was glaring at him.

“Don’t even dream of saying this”, she admonished him. “I know that my trust is well-founded, that you would never betray it willingly; and you know that the same applies to me. _This_ is the true essence of a couple’s relationship. I saw it with my parents, and I always wished it for myself... and now with you I _know_ I found it. That’s why I love you so much...” she said, her voice trailing off.

Touched beyond expression, Richard bent down to kiss her once more.

“You’re right... and for the same reason, I do love you as much”, he stated.

Nives closed her eyes, deeply moved. _Sooner or later_ , she thought, _sooner or later I hope I will be able to convince myself that all this is not a dream..._

(*) Good morning, my love.

(**) Good morning to you, sweetheart.


	13. Chapter XIII: Monday, August 17th, 2015

**Chapter XIII: Monday, August 17 th, 2015**

When they went downstairs for breakfast, Richard and Nives found Jerry cooking pancakes, as Raffaella set the table.

“Good mornin’ guys!” the archer greeted them. “Want some?”

“I’ll have one, thank you”, Nives accepted, as she loved this typical American breakfast element. “But what of maple syrup?”

“Since Jerry discovered the acacia honey they produce in Rio Marina, no more syrup”, Raffaella told them, pointing to the pot at the centre of the table.

They sat to breakfast with pancakes and honey, coffee, milk, cereals and – except for Raffaella – scrambled eggs. As they finished, Jerry glanced at his watch.

“Better hurrying”, he admonished them, so they quickly cleared the table, then they went getting their bags with all they needed for the day, a backpack cooler with their packed lunch, as well as two beach umbrellas. These ones puzzled Richard.

“But if it’s a granite quarry, how are we supposed to plant the umbrellas?” he asked.

“We will prop ours on a rock”, Jerry answered as they packed everything into his Stelvio. “For yours, we’ll use a coring hole a few metres away. Nives was who discovered it, the first year we took her there”, he added, smiling at the memory: he and Raffaella had been there many times, but had never seen the hole or, though maybe seeing it, they never thought about using it as a base for a beach umbrella.

As they finished loading all the material, Raffaella looked at Richard with an air of connoisseur.

“You really look hot with those Ray-bans in _Top Gun_ style”, she stated. “Don’t you agree, Nives?”

Nives nodded emphatically. “I do, fully. In my opinion, Tom Cruise isn’t even half as hot!”

Richard shook his head, laughing. “Oh come on, you’re exaggerating…”

Jerry instead affected a hurt face. “But ladies, and me? Ain’t I’m hot…?”

He looked like a disappointed child, so much that Raffaella laughed aloud.

“Oh you poor baby…!” she exclaimed, then she threw her arms around his neck and smothered him in kisses. “For me… you are… the hottest man… in the world!” she avowed in between pecks. “Believe me!”

Jerry enjoyed her endearments for a few moments, then he held her tight and captured her lips with his.

“Okay, I believe you”, he then assured her, beaming. “Looks like I realised just now what I have to do to have you kissing me”, he added, winking.

Raffaella chuckled. “You have only to ask for it…”

They got into the car – this time, the two men sitting on the front seats and the two women on the backseat – and drove off. They found no obstacles along the way, except for a bus that they had trouble to overtake because of the narrow streets, but they managed to arrive just after nine o’clock. However, there was no room in the nearest car park and they had to go on a few dozen metres, parking the car in a widening beside the road, but it was no great problem as they were actually nearer to the beginning of the path leading to the quarry. They shouldered the backpack, bags and beach umbrellas and they went into the Mediterranean shrub, following the winding track paying great attention to where they placed their feet. As they came to the rocky part, Raffaella took the lead, following the safest trail possible, until they reached a rather wide natural terrace, a couple of metres above sea level, into which it sloped quite gently with rocks looking almost like large steps.

“Look at that boulder, Richard”, Nives drew her fiancé’s attention, pointing. “Seen from here, it resembles a camel, but if you change the angle, it looks like a giant frog.”

The Brit looked and actually saw a boulder in the form of a dromedary. He moved as Nives had suggested and the quadruped shifted to a colossal frog.

“Hey, hello Kermit! I didn’t expect to find you here!” he cried, laughing. Jerry laughed in turn at Richard naming the famous green frog from the Muppets, and Nives too laughed, recalling a funny photo of him with that puppet.

“Look over there, Rich”, Raffaella invited him, pointing her finger. “That’s Montecristo, the veritable island of Dumas’ novel.”

“Wow, it looks like a mountain coming straight out of the sea”, the actor commented, watching its shape standing out against the horizon. “I’d love to visit it.”

“Unfortunately, it’s very difficult”, Jerry informed him. “It’s a natural reserve and access is restricted almost only to scientific expeditions; you need a special licence and there’s a many-months waitlist.”

“But we can organise it for next time you two come to visit us”, Raffaella suggested, thus implicitly meaning that she and Jerry would be happy to have him again as a guest along with Nives. Richard smiled at her, nodding and thinking that finding new friends is always a nice thing.

They set up their beach umbrellas, inserting Raffaella’s and Jerry’s into the fissure of a rock and slipping Nives’ and Richard’s into the coring hole they had spoken of back at home, steadying both with stones and pebbles picked up nearby. Then, they placed the backpack cooler in the shade of a boulder and spread out their beach towels on the stony ground.

“Abound with your sunscreen”, Nives recommended Richard. “On the rocks, the sun glare is very strong.”

After having properly protected themselves, they sat, some in the sun, some under the beach umbrella. Rock was, of course, a very hard bed, which was why they had brought also gym mats that, though thin, at least spared them from the worst. They chatted, recalling past vacations or anecdotes from work; Richard shared many funny stories and most were mightily hilarious.

Around 11 o’clock, the sun was striking hard and Raffaella suggested going for the first swim. Nives – who had delicate feet – wore her special bathing shoes and shouldered her bag with flippers, mask and snorkel, and so did Jerry and Raffaella, while Richard grabbed his iPhone, sunglasses and baseball cap. Following the archer, who led the way, they hiked in single file on the rocks, heading for the small cove where they used to dive.

“I feel like an ibex!” Richard commented humorously, stretching his legs from one boulder from another. He had donned his white t-shirt to prevent potential burns on shoulders and back despite the sunblock cream.

“You’re telling me!” Nives confirmed, accepting the hand he was extending to help her.

After a few minutes, they reached the cove; they sat on the boulders to put on their gear, while Richard ventured to the highest point to shoot some photos. From where they stood, they could see the near beach of Cavoli, with its almost white sand; as it was one of the most stunning beaches of the island, it was a very popular destination and therefore it was always crowded, and today was no exception.

“The water’s crystal clear!” he cried, looking down: in this point, the seabed of sand and rocks was perfectly visible, though it was several metres deep.

“That’s why we love coming here”, Jerry explained, accommodating his mask, and Richard showed his thumb up, signalling he had heard him.

Raffaella was the first to dive, and Jerry and Nives followed suit. Richard had a good time shooting pictures as they splashed around in the transparent water. His eyes of course sought especially his fiancée; she wore a white bikini with printed tropical flowers, which highlighted her tan – as well as her curves. He caught her the moment she was diving with a sudden move, like a mermaid, her buttocks only half-covered by the skimpy white bikini underpart. He thought that this was the sexiest sight of the world and he regretted that he couldn’t be with her because of his phobia about high water and the resulting inability to swim.

He spotted Jerry and Raffaella while swimming hand in hand like two sweethearts and then even pranking each other, spraying one another or pushing each other under water, and he took a series of funny photos. Looking at them, Richard was even more regretful that he couldn’t be with Nives, to play with her as their friends were doing. He turned his gaze looking for his fiancée; he saw that she had reached the outer edge of the cove, following the bend of the cliffs, and that she was exiting his view. A little antsy, the Brit moved until he could see her again; at that moment, she re-emerged and took off her snorkel.

“I just saw a seahorse!” she cried in a loud voice, speaking in Italian. Raffaella heard her.

“Wow! They’re rare to be seen, you had a _stroke of ass_!” she commented in her usual easy Roman dialect. Nives laughed and nodded, very happy.

Richard had figured out what they had said, because the translation of _seahorse_ was literal – _cavalluccio marino_ – but he didn’t grasp what a _stroke on the ass_ had to do with seeing one. He would ask later.

Nives shoved the snorkel back into her mouth and resumed swimming; she put to sea a little more, but when the water became too deep to see the bottom despite its clearness, she turned and swam back, looking for other interesting things to watch. A school of tiny, white-silver fish swam side by side with her for a few metres, and then decided to go away; other bigger fishes were swimming near the bottom, seeking food; crabs moved diagonally on the sand and on the rocks; seaweed swayed gently in the submarine currents. Nives kept watching closely her surroundings, on the alert for jellyfish, as at that time of the year when water is especially warm, they could come very near to the coast and sting the unfortunate bathers.

When she returned near the shore, Nives thought that perhaps Richard was getting bored, all alone looking at her and the other two splashing around in the water. Therefore, she climbed on the rock that had served as a diving board and took off her gear.

“Tired already?” Richard asked from his high place. She tilted her head to look at him, shielding her eyes from the sun glare.

“Not really, but that’s enough for now”, she said smiling. “Anyway, we’ll have a second dive in the afternoon.”

She stood up, careful as not to slip on the wet stone, and joined her fiancé. She placed down her gear and hugged him tight.

“Hey, you’re cold!” the actor laughed, returning her hug, heedless of the fact she was drenching his t-shirt.

“How dare you call me _cold_?!” she pretended to be indignant, rubbing herself against is most manly spot.

“Ha!” Richard cried, taken by surprise. “You naughty girl…”

He clutched her hips and held her firmly against him, then he lowered his head and captured her lips with his in a searing kiss. Nives sighed and placed her hands on his buttocks, holding him even tighter.

“Hey, you two!” Jerry shouted from the water, his mask lifted. “Stop making out in plain sight! At least, go behind a rock!”

Richard and Nives broke the kiss to laugh. The looked down at Jerry and they saw Raffaella smacking him in the nape of his neck, in perfect Gibbs-style, from NCIS, a crime drama that both she and Nives were watching for years.

“Ouch!” Jerry grumbled, pretending to get angry. “What did I do to deserve such a brutal beating?” he asked melodramatically.

“You’re a nuisance!” Raffaella chided him. “Leave them alone… or are you envious?” she added, teasing him. Jerry laughed and grabbed her, and in response, Raffaella wrapped her legs around his waist; a moment later, they were kissing passionately. Richard winked at his fiancée.

“Hey, you two, stop making out! Everybody’s watching!” he shouted, and Nives almost choked with laughter seeing both Jerry and Raffaella showing their middle finger to them, never stopping kissing.

Richard too laughed his head off; rarely had he found such a hilarious company. These holidays were proving to be among the best ones of his life, if not the absolute best, he thought. He turned to Nives and brushed her lips in a kiss, chaster than earlier.

“I adore those two”, he stated, then he recalled his wonder about the previous exchange between Nives and Raffaella. “I didn’t quite understand what you nice derrière has to do with the seahorse…”

“What?” she asked, puzzled.

“Earlier, when you said you saw a seahorse and Raffi spoke about strokes on the ass”, the Brit explained. Nives burst into laughter.

“No no, it’s an Italian way of saying”, she clarified. “It’s not a stroke _on_ the ass, but a stroke _of_ ass. A rather scurrilous way to say _stroke of luck_.”

“Oh, okay”, Richard grinned. “Now I have just enriched my Italian urban dictionary…”

Soon enough, Jerry and Raffaella joined them. Richard asked them to take a picture of him and Nives on the background of the turquoise water and Jerry shot several, at different angles.

“Can you send me a couple of these photos?” Nives asked her fiancé. “So I forward them to my father…”

“Of course I will”, confirmed Richard, who in turn would send them to his parents.

“And now I’d like to take a few pictures of Nives soaking wet”, Richard announced, looking at his fiancée and winking. “I’ll get an enlargement, to keep in my bedroom, for my eyes only…”

“Whoops! Raffi, let’s go and leave alone these two lovebirds”, Jerry exhorted his wife. Laughing, the Italian-American couple walked away, heading for the natural terrace.

Though she wasn’t photogenic, Nives liked to pose; after all, the British photographer, Eva Ashworth, had said she was a natural model. Therefore, she sat down on a boulder, taking on a few glamourous poses imitating the divas on magazines, laughing at this; but Richard took her seriously and shot a long string of photos, as she was sitting, standing, propping, laying, and half-laying. In the end, Nives posed sexily and he felt very hot.

“Enough”, he said eventually, putting away his mobile. “I’m getting _worked up_ … but tonight you’re going to pay”, he threatened her, voice and frown very Gisborne-esque. Nives replied stooping forward and crossing her arms, as to highlight the mounds of her breasts.

“Oh yes”, she whispered hoarsely, “Pretty _please_ …”

Richard took two strides and trapped her with his arms against the rocky wall behind her, but careful as not to crush her on the rough surface.

“You need a good lesson”, he whispered in her ear, brushing her shoulder with his lips. “A _truly_ good lesson”, he added, climbing the curve of her neck in a chain of kisses. “One you’ll never forget”, he went on, placing other kisses on her skin until he reached a spot under her earlobe, which he nibbled. At this point, Nives was already breathless, but she didn’t lose her head completely and returned his ministrations, wrapping her arms around his waist; her hands climbed his back, her fingernails scratching gently his spine. She heard him sigh, then their lips met, melting in an explosive kiss that took their breath away.

“I’m afraid I need to cool off a bit, before we go joining Jerry and Raffi”, Richard mumbled. Nives looked down: the bulge on the front part of his swim trunks was very apparent. 

“I don’t think they’ll feel shocked”, she reassured him. “They too are a couple in love.”

“But I’m not as familiar with them as you are”, the Brit explained in an apologetic tone. Nives called herself silly: emboldened by the closeness that Richard had shown to their hosts over the last few days, she had forgotten how much he was actually private.

“Then let’s sit for a moment”, she said softly. “I too need that”, she added, winking at him. He smiled, pleased.

“This means that I have been able to _stir_ you?” he asked.

“You always do, you rascal!” she replied laughing.

When they returned to the natural terrace with vista on the legendary island of Montecristo, they found Jerry and Raffaella lounging into the shade and they did as much, because the sun was now at the zenith, beating hard on the rocks.

Around one o’clock, they took out of the backpack cooler what they needed to prepare their simple lunch, made of soft bread with cream cheese and cooked ham.

“Delicious!” Nives exclaimed after the first bite. “I’ve never thought of putting together cooked ham and Philadelphia!”

“Delicate and tasty at once”, said Richard, agreeing completely.

For a dessert, there were two Tupperware containers of diced pineapple and a grape.

When they finished eating, they put their trash into a bag, which they would diligently take with them at the end of the day, unlike certain people who had preceded them, leaving litter and cigarette ends.

“I’d feed those louts with their stubs!” Nives grumbled, disgusted, picking up yet another one and tossing it into their rubbish.

“You’re right”, Richard approved. “I smoke sometimes a cigar, but I wouldn’t dream of throwing around the stubs.”

“You like cigars?” Jerry enquired, having heard him. Richard shrugged.

“I enjoy one now and then, if there’s some special occasion”, he admitted. “I used to smoke more often in the past, but now it’s truly rare.”

“Well, if you like them, at home I have Tuscan handmade cigars, with one hundred percent Kentucky tobacco, very decent though not comparable to Cubans.”

“Huh, Caribbean tobacco is another thing”, Richard commented. “All in all, however, I must say that I’m not as crazy about _puros_ as to justify their exorbitant price.”

“I hate cigarettes, but I love pipe smoke”, Nives chimed in. “Nerwen smokes a pipe, like Gandalf and Thorin and many other Tolkienian characters, and the Professor himself”, she added, winking. “Personally, I never smoked, but years ago, in Tunisia, I tried a _sisha_ , or waterpipe. The tobacco was deliciously aromatised with fruits, but after some time, I had to stop because my head was spinning.”

“Tobacco plays such tricks, to those who aren’t used to it”, Jerry explained. “And a cigar, would you try one?” he then teased her. Nives shook her head.

“No way!” she cried emphatically. “And if you two smoke, stay away from me, and come back only when finished!”

“The same applies to me too!” Raffaella interjected firmly, looking meaningfully to Jerry. He immediately raised his hand in surrender.

“Rich, mate, know that, to kiss my wife after smoking a cigar, I must first brush my teeth and gargle a bucketful of Purell…” he confessed.

“I’ll do that too!” Richard promised at once, suddenly worried that Nives might banish him from their room and especially from their bed, because he stank of cigar smoke.

Nives looked at him, pleasantly struck by his solicitude.

“No need for it, but if you want to do so, I’ll appreciate it”, she said, grateful. The smell of smoke didn’t bother her much outdoors, but indoors it gave her an unpleasant choking feeling, if it lingered in a room or on people.

“However, I’ll never get why people smoke on the seashore”, said Raffaella who, like Nives, didn’t smoke. “I mean, they’re here breathing clean air and they’re clogging up their lungs with smoke…”

“That, only smokers know”, commented Jerry, shrugging. He had never been a heavy smoker, having a cigar only on special occasions such his university degree, or when he had won important competitions, and after meeting Raffaella, who didn’t smoke at all, he had further decreased the number. Smoking with Richard would be an exception.

After two hours and more from their lunch, they decided to have another swim.

“If you like, you can stay here”, Nives suggested to Richard, afraid that he could get bored. He smiled and shook his head.

“No, this time I’ll have fun filming you all”, he declared.

“Well, then I’m going to show off my famous cannonball dive”, Jerry announced, puffing himself up and beating his chest Tarzan-style; Raffaella burst into laughter.

“There’s also our equally famous couple-dive”, she reminded him. Richard arched one eyebrow, wondering what it could be, but didn’t ask, as he would find out soon anyway.

Thus, they grabbed their gear and went back to the cove. As they were hot and sweaty, they soaked themselves into the water before diving, then Nives put on her flippers, mask and snorkel, and swam at a safe distance in front of the rock outcrop from where Jerry and Raffaella would dive. Though she was an accomplished swimmer, she suffered from vertigo and didn’t fancy to dive not even from those two metres height. At the most, she dived from the starting blocks in the pool.

Richard positioned himself on the next outcrop, slightly advanced though lower, from which he had a good view.

“Tell me when you’re ready!” he shouted, talking to Jerry. The American man showed thumb up and looked down, into the clear and inviting water.

“Going!” he announced and Richard, who had already framed him, hit the REC button on the screen. Jerry inhaled, then he jumped yelling _banzai_ ; he drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and plunged into the water like a _cannonball_ , causing a high splash that almost hit Richard.

“Wow!” the actor cried. “And this was _Jerry the Human Cannonball_ ”, he said laughing, for the sake of the footage.

A moment later, Jerry re-emerged spattering around in a very exaggerated way, then he yelled an exultant, cowboy-like _ye-ha_ , swinging his hand as if hurling a lasso. Raffaella and Nives applauded, amused by his jests.

Quickly, the archer returned to the shore and hauled himself up onto the rock they used to enter the water.

“Ready for our couple-dive?” he asked his wife.

“Of course” she assured him, as she was already waiting for him at the top of the natural diving board. When Jerry joined her, she jumped in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist. Carrying her, Jerry approached the brink again.

“Ready to film, Rich?” he shouted.

“Ready!” the Brit confirmed.

Wife and man smiled at each other, then they took a deep breath and Jerry jumped, this time feet first, Raffaella clinging to him. An even higher splash than the previous arose, but it went the other way, therefore Richard wasn’t drenched.

“Bravooooo!!!” Nives yelled when they re-emerged, clapping her hands. Seeing her enthusiasm, Richard regretted once again that he couldn’t indulge his fiancée’s passion for water and have with her a couple-dive like their friends, but this was something that, unfortunately, he couldn’t fix.

Laughing, Raffaella and Jerry exchanged a kiss, then they got back to shore and grabbed their snorkelling gear.

They swam with Nives for some time, criss-crossing the cove. At a certain point, Raffaella caught sight of a school of two-banded sea beams and signalled it to the other two. They followed the school for a while, until the water became too deep for their taste and they decided to go back. Swimming leisurely, they returned towards the cove. Nives, unaccustomed to swim for a long time, was starting to feel tired, therefore she headed straight for the shore, while Jerry and Raffaella, more trained, lingered in the water.

Dropping the snorkelling gear, Nives joined her fiancé, and he welcomed her with a kiss.

“No seahorses this time?” he enquired.

“Nope, that would be too much, twice in the same day”, she answered. “Unfortunately, they’re getting increasingly rare, and this morning was truly a _stroke of ass_ , to say it Raffi-style”, she concluded laughing.

Richard laughed in turn, then he hugged her from behind and they stayed there, looking at the other couple swimming in the sea. A few minutes later, Raffaella re-emerged with a pained cry.

“Jellyfish!” she yelled in Italian. “Shit!”

Jerry was at her side in a flash. “Did it sting you?!”

“Yes, dammit!!”

Careless of the risk of being stung in turn, Jerry grabbed Raffaella’s hand and started dragging her away. She hurled another couple of colourful curses in Roman dialect, then she thought better of it and spared her breath to swim as to get to the shore quicker.

On the top of the cliffs, Richard and Nives had jumped at Raffaella’s alarmed and pained scream.

“What’s going on?” the Brit asked, as he hadn’t understood the Italian word.

“Jellyfish”, Nives explained concisely, starting to move to the place where they had left their bags. As expert snorkelers, her friends always carried a first aid kit for such a case. So far, with her it had never happened, but she knew that in the past both Jerry and Raffaella had had unpleasant encounters with jellyfishes.

Richard followed her.

“What can I do?” he asked, having no prior knowledge of procedures in such cases.

“Help Raffaella getting out of the water”, Nives suggested, grabbing Jerry’s bag. As Richard hurried to the water edge, she opened the bag and removed the waterproof pouch that contained a magnifying glass, a small switchblade, a microfiber cloth, gauzes, dressing strip, a scissor and an aluminium chloride ointment. She was acting with all the coolness she could muster, but she actually felt rather perturbed, as this was the first time she was facing a situation of this kind.

Jerry and Raffaella got to the shore and Richard helped the Roman woman to sit on the rock. Jerry took off her flippers as she tossed her mask with the snorkel, which Richard took over before helping her getting up. He supported her to the nearest boulder where she could sit down. On her forearm stood out a contact burn, long and narrow, caused by the stinging substance the jellyfish had released. Raffaella was clenching her teeth because of the burning sensation.

Jerry arrived with his mask full of seawater, which he poured over the burn to wash it and dilute the still present toxins. Nives, coming at the same time, handed him the already open first aid pouch.

“More water”, said Jerry. Richard moved at once and went to the water, filling Raffaella’s mask he was still holding. Meanwhile, Jerry examined the burn with the magnifying glass.

“There’s only one filament still attached”, he announced, relieved. Richard came back with the water and Jerry signalled to pour it over the injury.

“Dammit, dammit”, Raffaella muttered. “I didn’t see it, I turned for a moment and when I looked again, I bumped into it.”

“They’re almost invisible, those bitches”, Nives grumbled, her nerves still rattling.

“More water?” asked Richard.

“Yes, thanks”, Jerry answered, grabbing the switchblade. He opened it and, using the blunt edge of the blade, he started scraping very delicately Raffaella’s skin to take off the jellyfish’s filament, avoiding touching it in any way as not to risk being burned in turn. When he had removed the filament, Jerry signalled to Richard to pour the water, then he used the microfiber cloth to dry the spot, and eventually he applied the gel ointment. 

“Hold on, honey”, Jerry murmured, taking the gauze. “It’ll be soon over.”

Raffaella nodded wordlessly, her face pale and tense. It wasn’t the first time this happened to her and therefore she knew she wasn’t particularly sensitive to the venom, though the sting of a jellyfish is always very unpleasant.

Jerry tore the gauze package open and applied a few layers on the burn, in order to protect it from the sun and from the sand on the rocks; meanwhile, Nives used the scissors to cut pieces from the dressing strip, handing them to the archer, who fastened the gauze pad.

“Done”, Jerry announced. “Better?”

“Yeah, the burning’s fading”, Raffaella confirmed.

“As soon as you feel like walking, we go back to the beach umbrellas”, Jerry said, sitting beside his wife and placing one arm around her shoulders. “Then we’ll leave and go home.”

“I’m sorry I’m cutting short our trip…” Raffaella started to say in an apologetic tone, leaning into Jerry.

“Are you kidding?” Nives interrupted her vehemently. “We knew this could happen, not for nothing we always take with us the first aid kit.”

“Okay, but I’m sorry nonetheless”, the Roman woman replied, smiling faintly.

“Don’t worry”, Richard interjected. “There are worse things, like me slipping on a rock and breaking a leg…”

“Don’t even say that!” Nives scolded him. “Last thing we’d need!”

Her nervous tone surprised Richard, but looking at her, he saw she was almost as pale as Raffaella and he realised that, under the apparent coolness of her reaction to the accident, she was very distressed. He placed down Raffaella’s mask and crossed over to his fiancée, taking her into his arms. Nives sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I apologise”, she said, contrite.

“What for?” he murmured, kissing her wet and dishevelled hair. He realised she was trembling, albeit slightly.

“I got scared”, she went on, wanting to justify her brisk reaction.

“I know. And if you must know, I too!” he confessed.

“Really? You looked so calm…”

“Well, you too…”

At this point, Nives relaxed a little and chuckled. Hearing her, Richard chuckled in turn, and the tension they both felt eased, and then disappeared.

About ten minutes later, Raffaella announced she felt strong enough to return to the natural terrace. She still felt the burning, but it had eased a lot.

“You help Raffi”, Richard exhorted Jerry. “I’ll take care of your bags.”

“Thanks, mate”, said the American man, grateful. He and his wife therefore started to walk, with Richard following them and Nives closing the small procession.

When they reached the beach umbrellas, Raffaella sat under hers.

“Wait to take everything down”, she said. “Let’s recover a little, before.”

“It’s not a bad idea”, Nives approved. “Meanwhile, we can rinse and change.”

In the backpack, they had stored also two one-and-a-half-litre bottles full of freshwater to rinse themselves at the end of the day. Jerry helped his wife, careful as not to wet the dressing on her forearm, and then he doused himself with the remaining water.

Nives, too, rinsed and changed, wrapped into the beach towel; then, they sat quietly in the shade for some time. Evantually, they packed everything and prepared to face the demanding climb leading to the road and their car.

“Give me your stuff”, Richard offered, speaking to Raffaella and Jerry.

“You can’t possibly carry everything alone!” she protested. “I can carry the backpack, now it’s practically empty and it weights nearly nothing, and it doesn’t hinder me…”

Richard then took charge of Jerry’s bag along with his own, and Nives of Raffaella’s, while Jerry carried both beach umbrellas.

They walked slowly back to the car, which of course was scorching-hot like an oven. Jerry turned on the air conditioner on full blast and, waiting for the temperature to reach a tolerable level, they took shelter in the shade of a maritime pine.

“How’s your arm?” Nives asked Raffaella.

“The pain’s gone”, her friend answered. “When the gel’s effectiveness will be over, itching will start, and I’ll need to change dressing. Itching and irritation will reduce and pass completely within a few days. In the meantime, however, I cannot sunbathe.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Perils of swimming in the sea”, Raffaella stated with a smile both ironic and resigned. Nives sighed: her friend was right, this was something that had always to be taken into account, but so far she had been lucky and she had never wanted to think about it too much. The direct confrontation had thrown her off balance, Nives admitted by herself. She clenched her fists, then relaxed them again: she would go through it, after all she had confronted worst things alone, while now she had Richard, a presence that gave her an immense strength. She smiled at her fiancé, who was standing next to her, and he returned her smile.

“Everything’s alright?” he asked her softly. Nives nodded firmly.

Once at home, the two couples headed for their rooms. Jerry helped Raffaella shower and wash her hair, trying to avoid wetting her temporary dressing; then, as his wife had her hair wrapped in a turban-like towel, he changed the gauze and noted that the angry red of the sting had already a little abated.

“Does it itch a lot?” he asked her, applying more gel.

“Enough”, admitted Raffaella. “I had worse though.”

A few years ago, she had had indeed a much wider erythema, on the upper part of her thigh; in comparison, this one was just one-tenth.

“We all had a good scare”, Jerry commented, covering the spot with a new gauze and fastening it with a fine medical mesh. “Now rest.”

“Sure”, she agreed. Jerry led her to the bed, where he helped her solicitously to lay down. Of course, Raffaella didn’t need help, but she let him do it because she knew that taking care of her was important to him.

After placing a soft kiss on her lips, Jerry left her to shower in turn. He came back soon, wearing only his trunks and with his still wet hair all spiked upwards. Raffaella recalled a pun she had heard Nives speak and giggled. Jerry arched quizzically one eyebrow.

“Nives would say that, if pearls should pour down, you’d make necklaces!” Raffaella explained, now laughing openly. Jerry, too, laughed aloud, touching his porcupine-like hair: with a little imagination, he could picture pearls slipping onto its spikes and form – well, a crown on his head, rather than necklaces.

“Yeah, you’re right”, he confirmed. He stretched out next to his wife and grasped her hand. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, the itching is bearable.”

“For tonight, it should disappear and let you sleep.”

“Good that we always carry the first aid kit with us”, Raffaella commented. “After the first time, when I was twelve, at Fregene (*), I was never caught unprepared again.”

“What’s this, the third time?” asked Jerry.

“Yes”, she confirmed. “You know how the saying goes: there’s no two without three, therefore I expected that, sooner or later, it would happen. But now I’m done, huh!” she concluded, pulling a face.

“I agree!” the American man cried. “Now stop it, okay?”

He carried her hand to his lips and kissed its knuckles.

“Okay”, said Raffaella, smiling.

OOO

In the meantime, in their room Nives and Richard, too, had showered and changed. As it was still early for dinner – it was late afternoon – they lay down on the bed to rest, unaware that their hosts were doing as much. Nives moved near Richard and propped on one elbow.

“Richard Armitage, know that I’m madly in love with you”, she stated, placing one hand on his chest. “So much so, that I feel breathless every time I look at you…”

He covered her hand with his own and squeezed it lightly; he liked it when Nives told him she loved him, but her present intensity slightly surprised him.

“And I love you as much madly as you do”, he said in a soft voice. She smiled at him, not hiding the emotion that those words unfailingly stirred in her.

“I wanted you to better understand my reaction earlier, when you mentioned the possibility of getting injured”, she went on. “I… I cannot bear the idea something like this could happen, that’s it!” she blurted out. Richard felt moved.

“Same here”, he said, pulling her to him. “I’d feel wretched, should you be sick or hurt, whatever the reason.”

He looped one arm around her shoulders and held her to him. She returned his embrace.

“I’m a fool”, she whispered. “Instead of enjoying your company in this dream place, I worry about things that I don’t even know if they’ll ever happen. I must learn to practice better the yoga philosophy of _here and now_ ”, she sighed.

“Living in the moment”, Richard extended the concept. “Savouring it thoroughly the very moment and in the very spot it happens”, he made her raise her face to his. “Like now”, he concluded, kissing her gently. They cuddled tenderly until time came to go downstairs for dinner. 

OOO

When Salvo came to serve the aperitif in the sitting room and saw the dressing on Raffaella’s forearm, he was alarmed and asked what had befallen. She reassured him, but after he had returned to the kitchen, Marcella came immediately to give Raffaella her wishes for a speedy recovery.

For dinner, the cook had prepared typical cold cuts: Tuscan ham, boar salami, _finocchiona_ – a sausage aromatised with fennel seeds – _coppa_ – a large pork sausage – and roast suckling pig, artistically arranged on wooden cutting boards. A colourful mixed salad, enriched with green and black olives, and the traditional unsalted Tuscan bread came with them. For a drink, Salvo had chosen the Alicante produced by the Altariva Estate, a rather structured red wine that found Nives’ unconditioned approval and that everybody liked.

To close the dinner, came an unusual exotic fruit salad, with mango, pineapple, kiwi and coconut with just a drop of rum, very fragrant and multi-coloured, which earned Marcella many compliments.

Fairly tired because of Raffaella’s misadventure, that evening the four friends went to bed quite early.

(*) Famous beach near Rome.


	14. Chapter XIV: Tuesday, August 18th, 2015

**Chapter XIV: Tuesday, August 18 th, 2015 **

“Where can I find a nice ice cream cake for Richard’s birthday?” Nives asked Raffaella.

After their archery class, ended with another performance of _Hawkeye_ that had left Richard once more wide-eyed, Nives had asked Raffaella to keep her company and now they were soaking in the bubbling water of the Jacuzzi. The men had tried to follow them, but Nives had told them explicitly that she needed to speak with Raffaella privately.

“It’s Saturday, right?” the Roman woman asked for confirmation, and when her friend nodded she went on. “Are you sure you don’t want a homemade cake? Marcella cooks an excellent Neapolitan _pastiera_ …”

“I adore _pastiera_ , but it’s truly too hot for that”, Nives observed shaking her head. “That’s why I was thinking about an ice cream cake.”

“You’re not wrong”, Raffaella admitted. “Then I recommend the ice cream parlour we went to on Friday, when we came back from Portoferraio. You just need to order it, even the day before, and they make it accordingly to your tastes.”

“With chocolate, for sure”, Nives smiled. “Both Richard and I are crazy about chocolate ice cream…”

“I know, I know”, Raffaella laughed.

“Do they deliver home, too?” Nives asked and, seeing her friend’s nod, she went on. “Then I’ll ask them to deliver it to the _Drago di Mare_ : I was planning to go there for dinner. We could book one of their private rooms, so no one will bother us.”

“Absolutely perfect idea. Salvo and Marcella will have the evening off. I call immediately to book!”

“And then, when we get back home, we’ll proceed with my belly dancing…”

Nives was indeed planning to give a surprise performance in Richard’s honour and Raffaella had suggested to do it in the sitting room, as they could make enough room for her just moving aside the coffee table and one of the armchairs.

“Precisely”, Raffaella agreed, smiling with an air of complicity. “You’ll knock Richard out… or down”, she concluded giggling. “Be ready for a _fiery_ close of the evening… I mean, a _more than usual_ fiery one.”

They grinned very impishly.

Meanwhile, Jerry and Richard were stealing stealthy glances at them.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” the Brit asked.

“Something that will very much please one of us, or both, I bet”, the American man answered.

“Too easy a bet…” Richard smirked.

“Yeah, I agree!”

“I must confess that, since Nives and I are together, sometimes I feel like a teenager again”, Richard said, sobering. “I yearn for her when I’m not with her, I think of her and my stomach flutters, I feel like everything is insipid without her, even when I do things that I always loved, including acting. Not that all of a sudden I don’t like what I do anymore, but since Nives came into my life, everything makes more sense when I’m with her…”

“Same here, mate”, Jerry assured him. “Since I met Raffi, my life acquired much more significance.”

“Precisely! Exactly what I meant…” Richard confirmed. He paused and thought how unusual it was, for him, sharing so intimate a topic with a man who, after all, he had met just a few days before. However, he had connected with Jerry – and with Raffaella – with an immediacy that he had experienced very rarely, in his life, and he felt he could trust them both. Anyway, he doubted that Nives would cultivate such a long friendship, should they not be fantastic people.

Raffaella and Nives returned and took their places next to the men.

“You’re up to something, aren’t you?” Richard asked.

“Yep”, Nives confirmed casually, smiling at him. “It’s about your birthday”, she revealed to tease him. Richard watched her closely, his azure eyes expressing a slight concern.

“What goes on in that little head of yours, my sweet Italian girl?” he enquired.

“Don’t worry, nothing crazy”, she assured him, as she knew he wasn’t much for eccentricity.

“I trust you”, he assured her in turn, earnestly but softening his tone with a tiny smile. “You know that.”

“I know… but it’s good hearing it”, Nives commented, moving to brush his lips with hers; he returned her kiss.

Beside Jerry, Raffaella grabbed her mobile; quickly, she searched the phonebook for the number of _Il Drago di Mare_ and dialled it. The owner in person answered her, and she confirmed that a private room was available for Saturday night, therefore Raffaella booked it at once. As they knew each other personally, she had no need to give her credit card number as a guarantee and ended the call.

“May I ask what you two are up to?” Jerry asked her, smiling.

“A surprise for Richard’s birthday”, she disclosed. “I tell you only if you swear you’ll keep your lips sealed…” the archer nodded and Raffaella continued. “I booked a private room to Lorena at the _Drago_ ; we’ll have dinner there, finishing with a chocolate ice cream cake. And then, when we get back home, Nives has a surprise gift in store for Richard: she’ll perform a belly dance for him, and for us.”

“Whoa!” Jerry cried under his breath. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better warning Rich? I don’t want him having a heart attack”, he jested. Raffaella laughed.

“Perhaps we can tell him something at the last moment, just for a precaution”, she answered. “But until then, not a word!”

“Absolutely”, he assured her.

Raffaella changed the dressing on the jellyfish sting, and then, as the sun was beginning to burn, she began very considerately to apply sunscreen on Jerry’s back. After the cream was absorbed, she began caressing him, appreciating the shape of his dorsal muscles.

“Watch what you’re doing with those hands, honey...” he warned her, casting her a sidelong glance.

She suddenly made an innocent face. “Why, what am I doing?”

“If you come here, I’m going to explain”, he said, patting on the mattress beside him. Obentiently, Raffaella lay down; he rose, only to bend down and kiss her. At first, he brushed her lips with his, then, he teased her touching her lower lip with the tip of his tongue; she parted her lips, ready to welcome his kiss, but he resisted the urge to deepen the kiss and nibbled at her upper lip instead. So, Raffaella repaid him in kind and finally Jerry yielded, kissing her deeply. Their tongues intertwined, in a movement at once sensual and tender that had them both sighing.

“I adore kissing you, my sweet wifey”, Jerry declared, withdrawing to look into her eyes.

“And I adore kissing you, hubby mine”, she replied softly, returning his gaze.

At one o’clock, as usual they headed for the kitchen for their lunch, fruits for Nives and sandwiches for the other three, and then they returned by the pool for another deliciously lazy afternoon.

In the late afternoon, the sky clouded over and soon a south-west wind began to blow, very humid, a harbinger for rain.

“We better fasten tightly the sunbeds’ curtains and put away mattresses and pillows”, said Jerry, looking at the rough sea. The few boats still offshore were all hastily returning to harbour.

“Let’s remove the cushions of the couches under the gazebo, too”, Raffaella added. “Tonight we’d better dine inside.”

They busied themselves as the wind became stronger and the sea rougher.

“A thunderstorm’s brewing”, Jerry said as they stuffed everything in the closet, pointing to the dark sky where lightnings were beginning to show.

“Each time I come to Elba, at least one nice downpour is guaranteed”, Nives observed, laughing. “I remember the first time: I was accommodated in a tent, at a camplingplace in Marina di Campo, and the rain caught me at the beach. Luckily it didn’t rain hard and when I went back to the camplingplace, I found out it hadn’t done any damage, only wetted the towel I had left to dry, which anyway was dry again by evening.”

“That was the year we met”, Raffaella recalled. Nives smiled and nodded.

“Our friendship was the best thing of that holiday”, she stated.

“You’re so right!” Raffaella cried in Italian, her Roman accent coming to the fore as usual when she got enthusiastic.

So, on that evening they had dinner indoors. As outside was beginning to rain, at first lightly, then stronger, Salvo brought to the table delicious fish crepes with three different stuffings: shrimps and courgettes, salmon and spinach, bass and red peppers. An Ansonica white wine went with them, perfect both for fish and vegetables. As a dessert, Marcella had made a tasty fruit salad with just strawberries, sprinkled with true balsamic vinegar of Modena, thick and sweet-and-sour. Nives, like her alter-ego Nerwen, adored strawberries and was enthusiastic.

“I never had strawberries with vinegar”, Richard commented. “I woud’ve never thought it so good with them.”

“It’s not common vinegar, but a speciality of the town of Modena”, Raffaella explained, then she looked at Nives. “What did you tell me once, about it? That the ancient Romans too knew it?”

“Yes, exactly”, Nives nodded. “I learned this from a friend of the Celtic festivals, an experimental archaeologist specialised in the Roman army and in the gladiatorial combat. He’s very appreciated abroad, too. The Romans called it...” she pulled a face. “Darn, I don’t remember it… wait a moment”, she fumbled with her mobile, connecting it to the internet and making a quick research. “Oh, I got it: they called it _defrutum_.”

“I wonder how the ancient Romans’ cuisine was”, Jerry said.

“Oh, very different from the present day”, Nives assured him. “Dario – my friend – among the thousands of things he studied, has even read a few recipe books of the time and he assured me that for us, that kind of food would be totally uneatable.”

“Because of the taste or of the ingredients?” the archer enquired.

“Both: they combined things that we’d think unlikely; besides, they used ingredients that today we won’t even consider, and they didn’t know many of the modern ingredients because they didn’t exist, back then in Europe.”

“Like potatoes”, said Raffaella, winking at her.

Nives took the prompt and laughed. “I wouldn’t bear that! I _adore_ potatoes, in each and every way they cook them!”

“How was it, that time in Ireland?” her friend prompted her again, as she knew the tale already.

Again, Nives laughed. “You could say that potatoes are Ireland’s national food, I found them at every meal. After three days, my travel companions had already had enough. _Oh come on, always potatoes_ , they complained; and I was like _if you don’t want them, give ‘em to me_...”

Everybody laughed. Salvo, who had come in to clear the dessert cups, had heard her.

“If you like, I can ask my mother to cook her potato pie, for one of the next dinners.”

“A potato pie? Gladly!” Nives accepted at once, eagerly. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Miss Nives”, the waiter smiled and exited.

“And what’s your favourite food, Rich?” Jerry enquired. “Apart from chocolate ice cream – Nives told me, of course”, he added, laughing.

“Oh goodness, I have several”, the Brit admitted. “But if I have to name one, which I really couldn’t do without, I’d say roast beef. Best served, incidentally, with... roasted potatoes”, he concluded, looking at Nives with smiling eyes.

She arched her eyebrows. “Sounds excellent! I hope I’ll have the chance to taste it.”

“Well, we can do that”, Raffaella considered. “Rich, we can ask Marcella to cook it with your recipe, one of these nights.”

The others nodded, accepting the proposal.

“And you, Jerry?” Richard enquired. “What’s your favourite dish, the one you’d never give up?”

“Jambalaya, a typical Creole cuisine dish”, the American man answered promptly. Richard hadn’t a clue what it was, but Nives instead knew exactly.

“Really?” she cried. “I wasn’t aware of this! It’s Captain Sisko’s favourite dish!”

Jerry nodded emphatically: he too, like Raffaella and Nives, was a _Star Trek_ fan and therefore, he had understood the reference at once, but Richard was more confused than ever.

“It’s a rice-based dish”, the archer therefore explained. “There are several recipes, but mine is St. Louis’ typical one, with chicken, shrimps, sausage, red and yellow peppers and tomatoes, seasoned with turmeric and ginger. I think it’s precisely the one named in _Star Trek_ , because Captain Sisko is a native of that town”, he concluded.

“Once I cooked it because I had an Afro-American friend native of Baton Rouge”, Nives told them. “It turned out great! Jake – my friend – complimented me a lot, telling me it was exactly like his granny’s, and that is the best ever compliment I received for my cooking; but I never cooked it again because it requires a lot of time.”

“It’s a complicated recipe, indeed”, Jerry agreed.

“My favourite dish is pizza with stracchino (*) and olive paste”, Raffaella announced, to Richard’s benefit as the other two already knew it.

“Well, you all talked about a dish, not a particular food”, Nives protested. “Now I tell you mine. Oddily enough, it’s _not_ a dish based on potatoes, but on fish, another food among my favourites: spaghetti _allo scoglio_ ”, seeing Richard looking at her quizzically, she explained. “Spaghetti with shrimps and shellfish”, she simplified, not recalling the English translation of mussels and clamps.

“Sounds delicious”, said Richard.

“I can ask Marcell to cook it, one evening”, Raffaella suggested.

“But this means _two_ of my favourite dishes”, Nives protested. “It doesn’s sound fair...”

“Don’t worry, you know that I too like potatoes very much”, her friend reassured her with a laugh. “So, it our men have no objections, we have already two dinners with settled menus: potato pie and spaghetti _allo scoglio_.”

“And Rich’s beloved roast beef, too”, Jerry reminded her.

“Right, that makes _three_ dinners”, Raffaella smiled.

“Why not jambalaya?” the Brit asked, as he was sorry to deprive his friend of his favourite dish. Jerry shook his head.

“It’s a quite heavy food, not much suited to this hot weather, so I’d rather not have it”, he declared.

“I see...”

Marcella was glad to learn about their requests, and besides, this relieved her from the effort to think about what she should propose each time.

Meanwhile, the rain hadn’t ceased to fall and now they heard loud thunders, too. Raffaella expressed her worry about Salvo’s and Marcella’s return home: should the weather worsen, turning into a cloudburst, the dark and meandering road that awaited them to go back to Capoliveri, where they lived, could become dangerous.

“Better we tell them to go home now”, Jerry agreed. “I go and tell them.”

Salvo and Marcella protested at first, but the archer wouldn’t hear any arguments.

“We don’t want you two on our conscience”, he affirmed jestingly, but only half so. “We’ll take care ourselves of the washing up.”

“Well then, thank you, Mr Jerry”, Marcella said, grateful. “And please thank Mrs Raffaella too.”

“Okay, that’s settled”, the American man nodded. “And please, when you’re safe at home, send me a text, so we won’t worry.”

“We’ll do that”, Salvo assured him, appreciating their employers concern for them.

As soon as cook and waiter had left, Nives, Richard, Jerry and Raffaella busied themselves in clearing the table, cleaning the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and starting it. Working as a perfectly trained team, the whole thing required only a short time. Then, they returned to the dining room and devoted themselves to another Avengers themed Monopoly game.

Half an hour later, Jerry’s phone chirped, announcing the arrival of a text. He checked at once.

“Marcella and Salvo are safe at home”, he said.

“Good to hear that”, commented Raffaella, relieved.

They concentrated again on the game, which was progressing with a surprise each cast of dice, but they were soon distracted by the worsening of the wheather: heavy rainfall, lightnings bolting from one horizon to the other and deafening thunders.

“Gosh, that’s dreadful!” Richard cried, rather upset, looking out of the frenchdoor.

“And it’s not the worst we ever had”, Raffaella informed him, placidly, as among the four of them, she was the one who had been living on the island for the longest time. “This is just a gale of small intensity. Once we had a whole gale, with winds over 100 kilometres per hour and waves over 10 metres height. The water surface was completely white and the breakers were truly frightening”, she pulled a face. “We had quite a lot of damage along the coastside, and several boats broke moorings, smashing into the quay. Thank goodness, no one died, that time”, she concluded, shivering at the memory. “But int the past there were deads, they told me.”

“Sadly, incidents happen, out of bad luck or negligence”, Jerry commented.

“Well, all this water prevents fire hazard, at least for awhile”, Raffaella observed.

“Do you have fires often?” Richard enquired.

“Almost every year”, she answered with a sigh. “Luckily, we’re well organised and the firefighters well trained; besides, almost all Elbans are volunteer firefighters, in turn well trained to fight forest fires, but now and then, people end up dead, nearly always unexperienced tourists. The most dreadful episode happened in 1985 in Sant’Ilario, when five youngsters from Lombardy, who were here on holiday, were swept away by an appalling fire. They had challenged it because they had to catch the ferry at Portoferraio to go back home. In hindisight you could say _to hell with the ferry, better lose it than burning to death_ , but it’s too late for them now. Every year, on the date of the tragedy, they have a memorial ceremony on the cippus they placed on the spot where they found their bodies. A weird and somehow wonderful thing happened: in that very spot, five holm oakes have sprouted spontaneously, all straight on one line, almost in remembrance of those five lost lives...”

There was a moment of moved silence.

“What a touching story”, Richard whispered. “They should make a movie out of it, to teach fire prevention, as fires are nearly always caused by human carelessness: discardig a cigarette, putting out a campfire inaccurately...”

“You’re right, it happens nearly always this way”, Nives nodded. “Also Mount Summano – which I showed you when you came to my town – is often on fire because of arsons, if set purposely or by accident, mostly we cannot tell. One year we had two very extensive fire fronts, which had started in two different places; at a certain point, they joined together. Dozens of kilometres of flames in the night, a frightening sight. Luckily, firefighters and civil defence managed to prevent it reaching the houses of the towns at the foot of the mountain.”

A huge lightning discharged into the sea, right in front of the terrace where the french-window looked out, followed a moment later by a ear-splitting thunder. The lights flickered.

“Whoa, this was close”, Nives commented, slightly paling. She didn’t like thunderstorms.

“Well, but we’re safe here”, Raffaella smiled at her reassuringly. “A few years ago, we installed a lightning conductor, when we risked having all our electrical appliances fried by a bolt that had fallen near our house.”

“I remember that!” Jerry exclaimed. “It wasn’t even raining and there was no wind, no warning at all, then _bang_! A bomb! I nearly peed in my pants”, he concluded, laughing.

“I was working on my computer”, Raffaella told them. “I bounced up like a spring. Thank goodness, it hit the rock below, if it hit the house instead, it would fry everything for good.”

“It would’ve been worse if it struck a tree”, Richard considered, pensively. “It could start a fire.”

“Yeah, we were very lucky”, Jerry confirmed, nodding. “Hey, all this talking about fires and flames makes me want to have a barbecue... Do you like grilled meat, Rich?”

“Yep, very much.”

“Well, then tomorrow we’ll give Marcella and Salvo the evening off and we have our BBQ, are you in?”

“Of course! I like cooking at the barbecue”, Richard accepted at once.

“You’re going to place yourselves in front of a fire by this hot weather?” Raffaella enquired skeptically.

“We’ll be in our underwear”, Jerry smirked. “Right, Rich? The ladies will appreciate the show of two handsome half-naked, sweaty big males...”

Nives and Raffaella burst into laughter, and Richard grinned, picturing the scene.

“We’ll take care of keeping you cool with cold beer”, Nives suggested.

“Then it would be better having beer for dinner”, Raffaella observed. “Mixing up beer and wine means getting wickedly drunk.”

“No no, better avoid that”, the Brit laughed. “And while cooking, instead of beer we could have Radler.”

“What brand would that be?” Raffaella asked, confused.

“It’s no brand”, Richard clarified. “Beer diluted with lemonade.”

“Ah, got it! But we have no lemonade.”

“Lemon water then, with a little sugar. And that’s even better, more natural.”

“I can do that”, the Roman woman smiled. Jerry agreed, as he didn’t like to drink heavily.

“Speaking of drinking”, Nives interjected. “What about having a drink in spite of the bad weather? Maybe a highball? A little alcohol relaxes...” she intercepted Richards sidelong glance and his arched eyebrow, and laughed. “Yeah, I know, I’m my usual boozey self... but I have to keep my name, right?” she noticed that now Raffaella and Jerry were looking at her, confused. “My namesake grappa”, she reminded them. Once she had brought them a selection of mignon bottles that they had greatly appreciated.

“Oh, right!” Raffaella laughed. “I didn’t remember that…”

They prepared the highballs – a little whisky in a high tumbler, several ice cubes, water to fill it on – and drank, then they got back to the boardgame. Outside, the bad weather subsided gradually and, when they called the game, as none of them had prevailed on the others, it was passed.

**Wednesday, August 19 th, 2015**

In the morning, they found a clear sky and a bright sun; the air was fresh and had a rich scent of vegetation and wet soil.

Checking his e-mail before going downstairs for breakfast, Jerry found a message that put him in a good mood.

“Giorgio told me that his application for practicing hippotherapy in his riding school has been accepted”, he announced as they were having their breakfast, seated under the gazebo. “I’m very pleased, because I know it was important to him, enough to incur the costs to come and go from the mainland twice a week to take the instructor classes and obtaining the status, and then to specifically train one of his horses...” he paused and looked suddenly moved. “It recalls me of an event occurred many years ago”, he concluded. “I think I never told you, Raffi...”

“Tell me now, then”, she exhorted him, pouring honey over her pancakes.

“I was twenty-five, it was my second Olympics, Atlanta 1996”, Jerry began to narrate. “One day, my schedule was free, so I went to watch a dressage competition. As I was an athlete, I could access areas closed to the public, included the stables. There, I caught a competitor viciously whipping his horse. _Viciously_ , you understand? And he yelled at him because he hadn’t achieved the result the owner wanted. I swear, I saw red! I intervened, wrestling the whip away from him and threatening to use it on him, then I went to call the keeper and I reported what had happened. The result was, the competitor was banned from the competition and I offered to purchase the horse – a gray named Thunder – to keep him from his owner’s clutches. The sports court urged the man to accept in order to help out his position – he risked a permanent radiation from any competition, national and international, under the aegis of the Olympic Committee – and he accepted. I took Thunder to my mother’s ranch, where I got him treated. The poor animal was almost crazy out of fear and pain, he wouldn’t let anyone near him, he was biting and kicking everyone. It took a lot of patience and a lot of love, and I was helped by my mother and by the veterinarian, but in the end, Thunder healed both in body and spirit. Then, I gave it to the nearest hippotherapy centre, where Thunder became the darling of many youngsters and even of several adults. He died a couple of years before I met you, Raffi... Maybe that’s why I never thought of mentioning it to you.”

“What a great thing you did, _amo’_!” Raffaella commented in a low, moved voice. “You’re always so generous and helpful... I’m proud of you”, she concluded, looking at him in admiration and pride. She felt she loved him more than ever; not knowing how to express it in the most effective way, she grabbed his hand and kissed his fingers, one by one, looking into his eyes.

“You’re a good man”, Richard declared.

“I did nothing I didn’t feel like...” Jerry shrugged.

“Yes, but not everyone would do it”, Nives pointed out. “You’re too modest. As much as a certain Brit we know...” she added, looking at Richard askance.

“Um, you’re right”, Richard admitted with his _adorkable_ face that had everybody smiling. “The fact it that I prefer being modest than looking presumptuous.”

“However, it’s right to be aware of our own worth”, Nives objected. “You don’t have to be too modest, otherwise people will underestimate you, and you don’t have to be too immodest, otherwise you become obnoxious. Sometimes it’s truly difficult to realise where the line lies. Usually, I try to show that I know my worth, my abilities, but without boasting around. In this regard, I noticed that auto-irony helps a lot.”

“You’re right”, Richard approved. “I agree completely.”

Auto-irony was a characteristic he shared with Nives, and they appreciated it in one another.

When they finished breakfast, Nives, Richard and Jerry decided to take advantage of the cooler weather for a ride, while Raffaella devoted herself into a few small tasks regarding the management of the estate, which several supervisors run competently. The director of the food-and-wine shop – located on the road that led from the Museum of the Mines to the old mine of mount Ginevro – informed her that she lacked of a number of special jams that an artisan company of Marciana Marina produced, very peculiar flavours that in some cases mixed herbs with fruits, like lemon and rosemary, or Aleatico grape and lavender; therefore, Raffaella approved a suitable order, which the director would forward at once. Then, Raffaella called Maracella to inform her that she and Salvo could take the evening off because they would have a barbecue. This wasn’t something new – Jerry liked it and he did it at least twice a month – so the cook wasn’t surprised and just said that she and her son would come the following day.

When she was finished with her duties, Raffaella went to the pool and waited for the other three; they didn’t take long and came to spend another quiet day lounging in the sunbeds.

“You’re not bored, I hope…” Nives said at a certain point during the afternoon, slightly worried because Richard had yawned.

“Not at all”, he promptly replied. “I’m just extremely relaxed, as it happens rarely to me… and even if I was, let me say that, as my life is so frantic – as everybody’s life is, nowadays – being bored every now and then is a good thing.”

She thought about it.

“You’re right”, she agreed; Richard turned on his belly and stretched out to take the bottle of sunscreen, but she preceded him. “Wait, I’ll help you…”

“Thanks”, he accepted, looking at her gratefully. In those ten days, he had acquired a light tan, but he still risked a sunburn, therefore it was important to keep his fair, true-English skin protected.

Nives poured a little cream into her hand and started applying it on his broad shoulders. She adored his shoulders, his back… she adored everything in him, physically and temperamentally; she adored _him_. For the nth time, she wondered how her fangirl dream could have come true… or was she rather dreaming it to be true? Sometimes the thought that it was all a drug-induced hallucination crossing her mind… but under her hands, she had the solid reality of her man’s muscles and skin, and this confuted the hypothesis of a dream. Before she knew, her massage – started with the sole purpose to make the skin absorb the lotion – became more sensual, from simple rubbing it turned into caressing, fondling, homaging.

Richard perceived the change and enjoyed it, until his senses were too aroused and his nether regions stiffened, in preparation for her. At this point he uttered a stifled groan that dragged Nives off her reverie; she realised what she was doing and stopped.

“Sorry!” she murmured. “The fact is that, when I touch you, I lose my head…” she explained.

“There’s nothing to apologise for”, Richard sighed, turning his head to look at her with desire-filled eyes. “Same here… but if you don’t want me to carry you in our bedroom right now, you’d better stop.”

Nives blushed profusely.

“Do you really want me so much…?” she asked softly, incredulous. In response, Richard turned halfway, showing her the erection that swelled up his swimming trunks.

“Need more proof?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Nives… I love you more than my life and therefore I want you, not for my own pleasure, but as the physical expression of my feelings for you…”

She felt tears stinging her eyes: this was the very way she had always wished to be loved… Unable to vocalise her feelings, she stooped and kissed him, as tears of joy and deep emotion escaped from under her tightly closed eyelids. Richard turned completely and wrapped his arms around her; sensing her emotional turmoil, he returned the kiss with all the tenderness he was capable of. On the one hand, he was sorry that he had constantly to reassure her, because this meant that she was still unsure about the strength of his feelings for her; but on the other hand, he was glad of this because it reminded him he had never to take Nives for granted, because giving someone for granted was the first step towards the demise of a relationship.

“I love you so much… that sometimes I’m frightened”, she whispered, holding him tight despite the unbearable heat of yet another torrid day. Richard pushed her gently onto the mattress and kissed her again, and then again, breathlessly, until he saw her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Every time you feel doubtful, choked up, worried… tell me”, he pressed her. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night, even if I’m on the other side of the world. Perhaps I won’t be able to answer you immediately if I’m working, or if I’m on the toilet… but I will _always_ answer you.”

“I know”, she said, brushing his cheek. “Thank you…”

OOO

They had their barbecue on the terrace, into the shade of the house. The day had been hot, but the storm of the previous night had cooled the air and now that the sun was setting, the temperature was very nice. Nevertheless, the fire at first and the embers later gave off a great deal of heat, so the two men kept their playful promise of the night before and took off their t-shirts, though they didn’t strip to their whites but kept their slacks.

“Our handsome men are better than eyedrops”, Raffaella commented, winking at Nives.

“What?” Nives stared blankly at her friend.

“They’re good for the eyes”, Raffaella explained with a laugh.

“Oh well, that’s for sure!” Nives cried, laughing in turn.

As they cooked – chicken, sausages, veal cutlets, and a _Fiorentina_ , the classic, gigantic Tuscan beefsteak that they would divide among them – Richard and Jerry drank a couple of _Radlers_ , homemade like the Brit had suggested, that is, mixing light beer with slightly sugared lemon water in equal parts. The women too had it.

“Better than in Munich!” Nives stated. As a teenager, she had spent two weeks in a town near the big Olympic city, in an exchange between high schools.

When the meat was ready, Nives took it to the table, as Raffaella went fetching the large bowl of mixed salad that she had prepared. Meanwhile, Jerry and Richard quickly freshened up and came back with their t-shirts on. Raffaella watched them, and then she turned to Nives.

“Oh, too bad, they were so lovely to look at…” she sighed.

“Yeah, too bad indeed!” Nives confirmed, chuckling.

Promptly, Jerry took off his t-shirt.

“Anything to please my sweet wifey”, he declared. Richard stared at him, then he grinned.

“Well, I don’t want to be outdone”, he affirmed. He winked at Nives and took off his t-shirt.

“Hey, what’s that, the male striptease for Woman’s Day?” Raffaella laughed in delight.

“No, better!” Nives cried, casting an openly appreciative glance to her fiancé’s statuesque physique. “No comparison!”

Raffaella thought about it.

“You’re right, _teso’_ ”, she then agreed, using the Roman dialect short for _tesoro_ , meaning _sweetie_. “No stripper could be sexier than our men, in our eyes.”

“Hey, thanks”, Jerry gloated, taking his seat across his wife; Richard too sat across his fiancée.

Jerry busied himself in cutting the _Fiorentina_ beefsteak in four pieces and handing them out, as the others helped themselves with the rest of the tasty grilled meat.

“Delicious”, Nives declared at the first morsel of _Fiorentina_ , perfectly rare cooked. Seeing Richard hesitating in front of his piece, she misinterpreted the reason. “The rare cooking is required for this kind of steak, but if you don’t like it, leave it, I’ll have it and give you something else…”

“No, no”, the actor reassured her. “I like rare cooked meat. I was just wondering how I could cut it off the bone…”

“No ceremony here”, Raffaella said. “You can use your hands, we’re not at a formal dinner!” she pointed to the packet placed in the centre of the table. “Afterwards, you can use those wet wipes to clean your fingers.”

“Excellent!” the Brit smiled, putting down his cutlery and grabbing the bone. “Mmmhhh, tastes wonderfully”, he then approved after his first bite.

As the meat was mixed, white and red, Nives had chosen an amber beer to go with, slightly bitter and citrusy, produced on the island, perhaps a little too much for chicken, but fairly good with veal and excellent with pork and beef.

As they finished, they quickly cleared the table and Nives fetched the dessert she had prepared, based on yogurt, fruits and cookies, using the mixer and decorating it with dark chocolate chips; it was delicious and refreshing, and everybody complimented the maker.

Noting that a quite cool breeze was blowing from the sea, Raffaella urged the men to put on again their t-shirts. They cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher; Jerry would clean the barbecue later, so it would cool down entirely, and meanwhile they would continue the Monopoly game they had suspended the night before. This time, the winner was Richard, though it was a narrow victory on Jerry, who gave him a hard time, and as usual, they had much fun. Finally, after cleaning the chargrill, they wished each other goodnight and went to bed where, before sleep, both couples entertained themselves in passionate activities. 

**Thursday, August 20 th, 2015**

Nives was dreaming. She was alone in a big, empty house, its white walls devoid of ornaments, its rooms of furniture; there was much light, but it was cold. She was going from one room to another, searching, searching, feeling the weight of solitude becoming increasingly heavier, crushing her.

“Richard” she called, and her voice echoed in the empty rooms. “Richard, where are you? Richard!”

But he wasn’t there, he was gone, he had left her alone. Their relationship had been just an illusion, and indeed, how could it last? How could a gorgeous, famous actor like him, idolised by tens, maybe by hundreds of thousands of women – and many men too – be with someone like her, a plain small-town woman? How could she believe it? Richard had met another woman, perhaps a stunning colleague, and had forgotten her…

A sob shook her, then a harder one, so hard that her chest hurt; and the pain startled her out of sleep. Her jump was so hard that is awakened Richard, who was as usual sleeping holding her in his arms.

“What is it, love?” he asked in a worried tone.

“Noth… nothing”, she answered feebly, a lump still stuck in her throat. Far from convinced, Richard turned and flicked on the bedside lamp to look at her. 

“You had a nightmare?” he enquired, looking into her eyes. Nives felt tears well up and blinked furiously to keep them from falling.

“Yes”, she admitted softly. He kissed her lips, tenderly.

“Tell me”, he invited her. “It’ll help you to forget it…”

Nives hesitated: she hated the idea of troubling him with her paranoia, probably triggered by what they had discussed the previous afternoon, but she knew that he would get even more concerned if she tried to keep it from him.

“Hold me…” she begged him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders; he indulged her, holding her tight. Little by little, she calmed down.

“I’m sorry”, she murmured at length. “I’m so sorry I woke you up…”

“Don’t even mention it”, Richard reassured her. “Happens to anyone, to have a bad dream. I’m glad I’m here for you.”

“Thank you… Oh Goddess, Richard, I love you, I love you so much…”

“And I love you”, he reminded her, tenderly. He was beginning to suspect what she had dreamt of, but he waited for her to tell him.

“I was in a big, entirely empty house”, Nives disclosed in a low voice. “I was looking for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere, because I knew you were gone, you had left me… All my fears of being inadequate, of you getting tired of me, overwhelmed me and I started weeping…”

“No no no!” the actor cried, feeling his heart flying out to her. “You’re the woman of my dreams, no _inadequate_ here! You’re everything I ever wished in a partner, and even more… It’s _me,_ who sometimes feel inadequate for you, because I cannot be with you as much as I’d like to, as much as you’d deserve…”

“What are you talking about…? _You_ , inadequate?”

“Precisely!” he confirmed forcefully. “I feel as if I’m never enough for you… near enough, present enough, thoughtful enough…”

“You’re kidding!” Nives interrupted him, shocked. “You’re the man I’ve ever dreamed of… in every way! I was crazy about you even before meeting you, when I knew you only virtually, because I had already realised what a wonderful person you are. No man could be more perfect for me, than you…”

Her voice trailed off because Richard was giving her his sweetest tiny smile.

“If I’m perfect for you, then you are perfect for me”, he said. “Please, believe me, and stop torturing yourself with the thought you’re not suitable. Before meeting you, I was incomplete, I missed a piece, I missed the other half of myself… and now I’m whole. I am, thanks to you. Your fear, though I understand it, has no reason to exist”, he paused to grasp her hand and kiss her fingers one by one. “Believe in our love… believe in _us_ ”, he urged her. 

She held him tight again, resting her cheek on his chest; Richard hugged her, propping his chin on top of her head.

“It’s the same old story”, Nives murmured, miserably. “The conflict between brains and heart… My heart knows, believes it, but my brains warn me for fear of suffering…” 

She didn’t say that her fear was born from the awareness that she couldn’t bear another let-down, that in such a case she would jump off a cliff and end it all once and for all; she didn’t say this because she didn’t want it to sound like some kind of blackmail or will of making him feel guilty. She wanted him to be free to decide, always, even to leave her, if so it had to be, because love means exactly this: let the other person decide freely whether to stay or to go.

“I… I beg you, never get tired of my endless insecurity”, she went on instead, stifling a sob. “Don’t get tired of reassuring me, of telling me you love me… please…” 

“I won’t get tired, ever”, Richard avowed firmly. “I’m sorry that your distrust in fate causes anguish in you… I’d like to see you untroubled, happy, always. But never fear I get tired of telling you how much I love you and of showing you…”

He withdrew and placed one finger under her chin to make her lift her face; he kissed her damp eyelids, wiping her tears away, then he dropped to her cheek, and finally to her mouth. Tenderly, he brushed the junction of her lips with the tip of his tongue, asking for access; she granted it to him and their tongues entwined in a sensual, but sweet ballet.

Richard kept kissing her for a long time, stopping from time to time to look lovingly at her and pepper her face with kisses, and then going back to her lips.

Flooded with Richard’s kisses, eventually Nives calmed down completely and forgot the anguish that the dream had stirred in her. At a certain point, she perceived his erection pressing into her thigh, but he wasn’t pressuring her to make love, he was just comforting and soothing her, with no ulterior motives, though it was inevitable that his vigorous body would react. Gratefulness filled her heart and she felt a lump in her throat.

Making a snap decision, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him backwards, switching their positions.

“You’re the most fantastic man in the world”, she murmured, dropping to his lips. “And I love you madly…” and with this, she sealed his mouth with hers. She felt his arms closing around her and holding her tight as he returned her kiss.

She kissed him long, passionately; then, she left his lips to move to his neck, then to his chest, down to his nipples, nibbling at them. Richard shivered and closed his eyes.

“Hey, what are your intentions…?” he asked, feeling his virility tingling.

“Guess”, she answered, giggling, and slipped down his body; she moved away the sheet, uncovering him, and started to place kisses on his abdomen, alternating lips, teeth and tongue. She came to the path of hair leading from his belly button downwards and, as she kept going lower and lower, she heard him heaving a sigh full of anticipation. Smiling by herself, she lingered a few moments to exasperate his wait; when she heard him sigh in frustration, she moved on, lowering herself onto him and closing her lips around his warm, solid flesh. Richard jumped and uttered a groan of pleasure, then a louder one when she began teasing him. Within a minute, he felt he was about to explode.

“Baby… you’re driving me crazy…” he mumbled huskily.

Nives removed her brazen lips from him and replied. “Precisely my purpose…”

Taking advantage of the fact she had left him, Richard withdrew, grabbed her and flipped her on her back, then lay on top of her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, beautiful… now you’re going to suffer the consequences”, he said in a fake menacing tone.

She feigned alarm. “Do you mean you’re going to _punish_ me…?”

“Exactly”, he confirmed, teasing her femininity with the tip of his male sceptre. It was Nives’ turn to moan in pleasure, but it was only the beginning, because Richard, after a long, sensual kiss, returned what she had done to him, dropping to kiss her neck, then her chest, lingering on the soft mounds of her breasts to suck at its buds until they hardened in arousal, and then he continued his descent on her quivering belly. He was very glad that they loved to sleep in the nude, when they were together – anyway, with the exceptional heat of this summer, it was practically mandatory, despite the air conditioner in the bedroom – because he wanted her so much that he was relieved he hadn’t to waste time stripping her from nightwear. He pushed himself down, between her parted legs, brushing the access to her most secret spot with his fingers and touching its inviting warmth. He felt her jolt and heard her sigh of pleasure, which turned into a groan when he placed his lips on her clit. Yearning to taste her exquisite flavour, he caressed it, then he shoved his tongue inside of her.

Nives uttered a louder lament and moved her hips to grant him better access, forgetting all modesty. Encouraged, Richard savoured her deeply, enjoying her sighs and her uncontrollable shudders.

“Stop, stop”, she begged him eventually, almost on the point of no return. “Take me, Richard, take me… I want you… I want to feel you…”

He withdrew and lay on top her; Nives had closed her eyes, overwhelmed by pleasure, but now opened them and looked at him; she encircled his waist with her legs, eager to feel his flesh pleasantly invading hers.

Slowly as he always liked to move despite the urgency of passion, Richard sank inside of her; Nives lifted her hips, welcoming him with a moan of pleasure, and finally they were completely joined.

They moved in synch, each one seeking the fulfilment of the other one rather than their own, giving before taking, eye to eye, their breaths mingled, arms and legs entwined. Leisurely, they gave themselves entirely to one another, flesh and soul, matter and sentiment, thrusting and withdrawing, watching their mutual expressions to assess the progress of the other’s journey to their common goal. Completion ripened inside of them, growing and growing, until Nives felt she had reached the brink of the abyss; she closed her eyes and threw her head backwards, heaving a loud love lament, and soared. Quivers crossed her feminine depths, reverberating into Richard, flinging him into the irresistible vortex of fulfilment and tearing a vibrant groan of pleasure from him. For long moments, both felt as if time had crystallised into an infinite moment of completion and bliss, suspended between one moment and the next. The world seemed to stand still. 

When it began moving again, they felt as if falling slowly from an immense height, like snow descending from the sky and softly settling onto the ground. Their gazes met and both saw bright stars shine in their partner’s eyes. They smiled at each other, incredulous, their breath still ragged, their bodies covered in perspiration.

Nives noticed she had dug her fingernails into Richard’s shoulders and quickly relaxed her hands.

“Good heavens, did I scratch you?” she asked, slightly concerned.

“A little”, he admitted, pleased.

She massaged his back. “Goddess, I hope it won’t show…”

“I instead hope that it will, actually”, Richard grinned brashly; seeing her incredulous stare, he explained. “I’m happy to bear your love brand.”

Nives felt her ears on fire at the thought that other people would see those marks, as she was very jealous of her private life.

“As soon as they stay hidden from anyone”, she whispered.

“No need to tell”, he reassured her. “They’re private… for the two of us only. We’ll share them with our friends here, at the most…”

They stayed joined for some more time, exchanging kisses and caresses. Then, a shaft of light coming from under the shutters revealed that it was day already; therefore, as they were wide-awake, they decided to get up earlier than usual. They went downstairs to the kitchen and cooked a robust English breakfast, with all the typical markers: toasted bread, fried eggs, bacon, tiny sausages that Salvo had provided on Richard’s request, stir-fried tomatoes, yogurt, tea and orange juice. They enjoyed the food, making fun of each other about the need to restore the calories they had spent in the agreeable morning activity that had preceded their breakfast. When they finished, they cleared the table, but left it set for Jerry and Raffaella, and then they sat outside, sipping another tea as they waited for the other couple.

“I have better check my e-mails”, Richard said, pulling out his mobile. “It’s been three days now.”

“I’ll do as much”, Nives nodded, as she hadn’t checked her mail in days. She didn’t found anything significant, while Richard had received two important e-mails.

“They confirmed the date for the comment on the DVDs of the third season of _Hannibal_ ”, he announced. “They’re waiting for me on the first of September in Los Angeles.”

“Oh? And how long will you have to stay there?” she asked, a little troubled. She wondered if she would ever get used to have him so far away…

“It won’t take long”, he answered, shrugging. “A week at the most. And… I received a job offer for a TV series to film in Berlin”, he looked at her, smiling. “It wouldn’t be bad: we’d be quite close!” 

“Yes, we would… but accept only if you think it’s a good script”, Nives recommended him, recalling what she had told him only a few days earlier about his job. “Don’t do it just for the sake of us… or me. What is it about, this series?”

“Basically, I’d be a secret agent operating in the CIA Berlin office.”

“Another spook, huh?” she chuckled, using on purpose the slang word to recall the series _Spooks_ , of which he had been part for three seasons. “I just hope that you won’t end as badly as Lucas!” she added, wincing in disappointment.

“I’ll make sure it won’t happen”, Richard said firmly. His professionalism prevented him to say it publicly, but he had loathed the way they had killed off his character, an end that had been unworthy of the hero he had been for the two previous seasons, ignoble and even uncoherent. Now he was in a position where he wasn’t forced to accept any kind of jobs in order to make a living, as Nives had pointed out a few days earlier: therefore, should they propose the nth violently ending character, he would refuse.

Half an hour later, Jerry and Raffaella joined them.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” the American man asked smiling, a little surprised; so far, they had always met in the kitchen because they rose from bed around the same time.

“This morning we woke up early”, Richard answered easily. “So we got downstairs earlier; but we’ll gladly keep you company during your breakfast.”

Jerry cooked his usual scrambled eggs with bacon, but instead of the pancakes, this time he opted for two zwiebacks – which had the same name in German and that in the United States were usually given to toddlers during teething, but he had discovered that they were excellent also for adult people – with acacia honey. Raffaella chose _cappuccino_ and Oreo, her favourite cookies. They chatted amiably, then prepared for a new archery lesson with Jerry. Richard noted that he had greatly improved, though he would always be a poor archer.

They spent yet another peaceful day; in the late afternoon, when Marcella and Salvo came to prepare dinner, Raffaella informed them that Saturday night they would dine out, so mother and son would have another day off.

As scheduled, Marcella cooked her potato cake, stuffed with smoked ham and _scamorza_ ; everyone found the food delicious, and Nives was almost in a rapture.

“Potatoes with two smoked ingredients”, she explained at the others’ amused glances. “No match could be more perfect for me, as I adore potatoes, as you already know, and smoked food. All of them: cold cults, cheese, meat, fish, beer and whisky…”

“Beer and whisky aren’t exactly _food_ ”, Richard pointed out, laughing, and she burst out laughing in turn.

“You’re right, that’s something you drink, not eat!” she cried.

“But you made your point”, he reassured her. “And, actually, I too love smoked food and drinks. Not for nothing, my favourite whisky is Jameson… at least, until I won’t try the one you suggested me, the Blackbush Irish whiskey.”

“As a good American, I favour bourbon”, Jerry stated. “Precisely, Wild Turkey.”

“If I’m not wrong, they consider it one of the best”, Richard observed.

“Really?” the archer said, slightly surprised. “I dunno… I drink it simply because I like it.”

“And so has to be for everything”, Raffaella affirmed. “We should do things because we like them, not because it’s fashionable or because we want to mimic someone…”

“Very well said!” Nives approved passionately.

To close the meal, Salvo served _panna cotta_ with a chocolate sauce, and after it, they had a coffee.

When they finished dinner, they moved to the outdoor couches to play UNO, and Jerry won all three games.

“That’s not fair!” Raffaella laughed after the last one. “You’re actually a Jedi and you’re using some kind of trick of the Force, admit it!”

Everybody laughed at her reference to _Star Wars_ , then Jerry clasped Raffaella’s hand and kissed it. “I will make it up to you when we’re back in our room, I promise…”

She stuck out the tip of her tongue at a corner of her mouth, taking on such a horny face that had everybody laughing again.

“You better watch what you promise, Jerry”, Nives warned him. “You may have to resort to _zabaione_ to keep up your strength…”

Raffaella and Jerry almost choked as they laughed their heads off, but Richard hadn’t grasped the reference and looked quizzically at his fiancée.

“ _Zabaione_ is something like custard cream”, she explained. “A delicious dessert, but as it’s a _calorie bomb_ , it’s used also to regain strength quickly after a disease, or to store energy before a big effort, or to rebuild energy afterwards…”

Richard smirked in a very naughty way.

“Oh, I’d like very much being forced to resort to this _zabaione_ ”, he declared. The implications of his statement made her cheeks turn tomato-red and the Brit thought that she was adorable when she blushed.

It was now time for sleep, so they wished each other goodnight and retired to their bedrooms.

(*) a type of soft cheese


End file.
